The Unsung
by girl1213
Summary: No matter how significant their mark, some heroes choose not to be remembered. Yet the marks of the Unsung remain even when they are forgotten by the majority of the world. But one story is about to be revealed. AU of FE: New Mystery Verse
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Fire Emblem!

**WARNING:** MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FROM AWAKENING AND HIGH POTENTIAL FOR SPOILERS OF NEW MYSTERY OF THE EMBLEM. **ALSO**, THIS STORY IS BASED OFF SPECULATIONS AND CONFIRMATIONS AND MY OWN IMAGINATION.

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It is often said that the true heroes are those who are unsung, leaving no mark on history apart from those who remember them. And when those people pass, the knowledge of the hero is lost in the never ending flow of time. But echoes of their deeds continue to exist, their marks forever edged into the world where human eyes pass over, unknowing that where they trend could be the place where a true hero made their stand.

But some continued to remember the unsung.

The Manakete, the tribes of long-lived human/dragon shifters, remembered what the other races forgot and would forget. They were the only ones who could retain the lost knowledge of the distant past.

Tiki, priestess of Naga of Warm, and secretly the Princess of the Divine Dragon tribe, and the daughter of Naga stood before a lonely statue of one particular unsung hero, who chose to be unsung. A thousand years had pass since this one unrecognized hero had made her mark on the world. But her mark was one of such great importance that it potentially dwarfed the Legendary Holy King of the Kingdom of Iris. But instead of embracing the significance of her role, she instead decided to fade away into the shadows behind The King of All Kings. Not even her tragic end went beyond the eyes and ears those who loved and respected her.

Tiki looked up at the empty eyes of the statue, remembering the serious blue eyes of the woman the statue could only represented in appearance of likeness. The statue's vacant eyes held no sparkle that could never fully fade or hidden away no matter how hard she tried with her straightforward and respect-of-one's-authority personality. The statue's long hair was pulled up in a high ponytail with the ends resting on the tops of the shoulder blades. Two long strands of hair still famed the woman's face. Tiki remembered the woman had often fought to keep the raven-colored strands from blowing into her face during a windy day and constantly pushing her loose strands behind her ears went bent over a table reading maps and thinking battle plans.

Under the statue's arm was a carving of the woman's signature Tome: Meteor. It was this Tome that weakened the Dark Dragon enough for the final killing blow by the legendary divine dragon slaying sword forged from Tiki's legendary mother's fang. The Tome, like its owner, was lost when the willingly unsung hero meet her end. Burned to ashes along with the hero's body, and released to fly into the wind.

The Manakete priestess turned towards the three guests she brought to this hidden memorial: The newly crowned Holy King of Iris, and his Queen with their baby daughter, the Crown Princess. The King and Queen were both looking at the statue with a mixture of awe and curiosity, but the Queen stared at the statue with an intense searching gaze. Tiki knew the Queen had seen the likeness, and was trying to figure out while hoping the statue itself could give her the answers she was looking for.

Tiki motioned for the royals to sit and make themselves comfortable on the stone floor of the roman-style shrine. The King and Queen sat down, the Queen crossing her legs to rest her sleeping daughter on her lap. Tiki sat down on her haunches and began to tell them the tale of this unsung hero whose statue was the only monument to her.

Tiki began the tale of the King of All Kings's personal guard, confidant and friend who held no record in history expect among the Manakete.

The tale of Hero of Shadow:

Iris.

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A/N: Hope you've enjoyed


	2. Fire, Chickens and News

A/N: Okay, here we go! Enjoy!

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**Chapter One: Fire, Chickens and News**

"Iris! Did I not tell you to not wander too far from the house, child? What on earth are you doing?"

Iris raised her head up sheepishly from where she was crouched, looking at the stern face of her grandfather, Zini. Between her hands was a tiny flame, hovering over a particularly large, but un-flowered, prickly sow-thistle. "Cleansing?" was her innocent answer.

"Cleansing?" her grandfather repeated, eyebrow raised high.

The flame went out with a small almost unheard pop when the young girl innocently blinked once. With a sigh, Iris rose to her feet, brushing the dirt that gathered on the knees of her pants before looking up at her grandfather's firm gaze, waiting patiently for her to explain why she was using magic, unsupervised, in their crop field, in the early morning when bandits could still be lurking about in the plains or the woods near the village.

"We lost most of our sheep this last winter," the little mage-in-training explained, "I know the thistles are a problem to get rid of without them. Ayden and Tori hate having to cut or pull them out, so I thought I could burn them away so they wouldn't have to." She scuffed her shoe against the ash remains of a thistle weed she successfully burned to the root, careful to avoid hitting the growing crops surrounding her. "I also wanted to practice my magic control since we hadn't done it in such a long time."

Zini's disapproving frown withered in understanding of his youngest grandchild's intentions, but did not fully disappear.

Iris was the only one of his family to inherit his anima magic abilities; a talent they found when Iris accidently set the family room curtains on fire when she was four. Since then, her older brothers, Ayden and Tori, and sister, Leona, had to keep a close eye on Iris's abilities when Zini was not around to keep her fire anima from slipping from her weak but slowly strengthening grasp of control. But it was only bad luck that Iris's anima had manifested fire first, instead of the easier to control lightning anima, at such a young age.

"I know you are anxious to go back into practicing magic control, but you know better than to practice without me," Zini told his granddaughter, kneeling down to better look her in the eye. "Although your control over fire has steadily become stronger, you're still in danger of losing that control."

"I know that!" Iris said glaring, her blue eyes sparkling with frustration at Zini, "But how can I learn to control fire if I don't practice using it?"

"Because fire has a will of its own," Zini said patiently, "Its purpose is to cleanse the land for new life to grow in its path. But it does not have a conscious, thus cannot tell the difference between the dead and the living, the old and the young, or the good and the bad. To fire, everything is an obstruction against new life and must be removed."

Seeing the confusion in his granddaughter's sparkling eyes, Zini reached down to grasped a leaf of the prickly sow-thistle Iris was about to burn, using only his forefinger and thumb; careful to avoid the sharp needle points. With a sharp yank, the leaf popped off its thick steam. He held it up for Iris to see.

"This…" he started

Using the forefinger and thumb of his other hand, he yanked off a leaf from a nearby soybean crop just starting its trifoliate stage.

"…and this," the old mage continued, holding to the two leaves up side-by-side for Iris to see, "Are the same thing to fire."

Iris's eyes widened with dreadful realization. "You mean…my fire could have destroyed our crops?"

Zini nodded and let the two leaves go. Iris watched them almost flutter back onto the soil at her feet. She scuffed her shoe against the ground again, wanting to kick up some dirt to bury the leaves, as her mind filled the images of their small soybean crop field burning into oblivion because of her when all she wanted was to cleanse the field of its troublesome weeds. Their soybean field, while small, was important to the village as it provide not only a source of food for the winter, but also food oil and flour that could be sold to other villages and towns for money or trade goods. It could also be used to feed the cattle that provided the village of its milk and cheese. Without the crop, the whole village would be in serious trouble.

The old mage-turned-farmer gave his granddaughter/student a comforting smile as he patted her raven haired head. "Now you know why it is so important for me to be here when you practice?"

Iris nodded under his hand.

"Good, now come along. You've been out here in cold for who knows how long. I'll have Leona will run you a warm bath when we get back to the cottage."

Zini rose to his feet, placed his hand on Iris's shoulder and began leading her through the field towards the faded white two-story cottage his family lived in; all five of them. As they walked, Zini could see his eldest grandson, Ayden, was already up on the roof, starting to replace the shingles that had blown off during a particularly strong windy day not too long ago.

Hearing a dejected sigh coming from the young mage-in-training at his side, the old mage gave the small shoulder under his hand a light squeeze. "When it comes to fire, control does not come from how many times to use it, but from the strength of one's willpower."

Iris looked up at her grandfather with curiosity. "Willpower?"

"As I said before, fire has a will of its own," Zini explained, "It is in that will that makes fire so unbelievingly powerful. To combat a fire's will, a mage have a strong will of his own; for only with a stronger will can fire truly be tamed."

Zini looked down upon his student. "What you must do, little flower, is find that power within yourself."

"But grandpa, how will I find it?"

Zini smiled secretly, flipping his long grey-haired ponytail behind his shoulder. "That is something you will have to find on your own. For it is the greatest power you can master."

* * *

Iris greeted the hens and one rooster in the chicken pen as she went to do her daily chore of collecting the eggs. They used to have three roosters and fifteen hens, but the hard long winter they had killed the other two roosters and five of the hens. Luckily, it wasn't as bad as the sheep. Leona would take Gracie, the most productive of their surviving hens, aside along with the lone rooster and put them in a makeshift breeding pen to rebuild their lost numbers.

"Who earned their keep today?" Iris asked the chickens as she entered the coop.

Butter, the oldest surviving hen, was in one of the nest boxes, just finishing up laying. Iris gently pushed her away to better get the eggs. Two whites, three browns and one green egg today. Although, three eggs short of the average, it would be enough. Her good friend, Norne, told her yesterday that her father would giving away the same number of pounds of their best chicken feed for five or more eggs. As Norne's family had lost nearly all their chickens from a blizzard late in the winter season, their need for eggs was high.

Congratulating the hens and assuring them that they had earned their keep, Iris gathered the six eggs into her basket and left the pen. She kept the door open to allow the chickens out into the fenced-in yard to scratch around for worms and pesky spring bugs. Having had nothing to eat but chicken feed and cooped up in the pen and coop for months, Iris had no doubt that the chickens would love a change in their daily diet and scenery, now that the snow was gone and the weather was warming up.

Iris closed and locked the front yard fence gate behind her before heading into the village, known as Sera Village. Her family's cottage was on the very outskirts of the village due to their soybean field, and sheep pen. It was only a ten minute walk from the cottage to village and clear on all sides, safe enough for Iris to walk alone to make her delivery.

The village seemed particularly busy and active today, Iris noticed. There seemed to be a buzz of excitement in the air that Iris could not explain, but it seemed to infest the village with a glee of joy and wonderment.

Iris entered the _Flying Pegasus_, the only Inn in the village, which doubled as the General Store. It was owned by Norne's parents, her mother running the inn, while her father ran the store. The Inn part of the _Flying Pegasus_ was not very big place, but it wasn't small either having enough rooms to house twelve or more people in its eight rooms. Iris noticed that everyone seemed to in a hurry, trying to clean up as fast and efficient as possible. The mage-in-training scratched her head in bewilderment wondering what was going on.

"Oh! Hi here, Iris! I didn't see you there!"

Norne, her pink-haired friend, finally took notice of her standing in the doorway. The other girl was virtually glowing with excitement as she skipped over to Iris to give her a rather tight hug.

"Hello Norne," Iris said, uncomfortable with how tight she was being held, "What's going on here? Everyone seems to be excited about something."

Norne pulled away in surprise. "You mean you haven't heard?"

"Heard what?" Iris asked, "I only just arrived in town."

"You're not going to believe this! Oh! I can hardly believe it," Norne said, beginning to bounce in place, "I didn't think it was possible. But it's true!"

"What? What is it? Tell me!" Iris insisted.

"Prince Marth is coming to our village!"

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A/N: I have virtually **zero** exprience with farm life and animal raising, but I hope I got some of it down alright. I hope I'm doing well with the story so far for a beginning.


	3. Old Friends

A/N: I hope those who are reading are enjoying themselves. And I would love to hear about it. So please review.

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**Chapter Two: Old Friends**

Iris plunked herself down on the nearest chair, setting the egg basket on her lap. Her mind was in a haze of disbelief and confusion.

The prince was coming to this little village? It was unthinkable to the young mage-in-training. There was nothing spectacular about Sera Village, other than it was the closest village to the border of Akaneia, the largest country in the continent. Traveling Akaneian merchants and traders, mainly from Khadein, were the common visitors, often passing through on their way to the capital city or other cities. Sometimes they would stop to rest and resupply at the _Flying Pegasus_, sell or trade their merchandise and goods with the locals, then be on their way.

Was the prince coming to meet with foreign merchants to negotiate commerce or something of a business sort that Iris had no chance in figuring out? Even though he was only twelve years old, almost a year older than Iris herself, it was conceivable. Royals had to be trained young when it came to the art of diplomacy after all. The prince could become king one day, although that title was more likely to fall to the man his older sister, Elice, would choose as her husband.

Iris blinked when she felt a hand patting her left hand where it lay on a nearby table and air being fanned to her face. She realized her head was lying atop of the back of the chair and she was staring up at the ceiling. She raised her head and looked at Norne's concerned light blue eyes. Her good friend was both patting her hand and using the end of her amaranth pink scarf to fan her face. It was a rather comical but sweet site to anyone watching them.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean for that to happen! I'm sorry! Forgive me!" the pink-haired girl was apologizing franticly.

Iris caught both Norne's frantic patting hand and stopped the wildly waving scarf from hitting her in the eye.

"No, no, it's not your fault," the mage-in-training reassured, taking Norne's hand into both of her own comfortably, "I didn't realize that I had done that. I'm sorry to have worried you."

"So…you're okay now?" Norne asked

"Yes," Iris answered smiling, her eyes sparkling with reassurance.

"Oh good," Norne said, letting out a deep breath of relief.

Her pink-haired friend then proceeded to drag another chair over to the table Iris sat at.

"Are there any Akaneian merchants in the village?" Iris asked when Norne made herself comfortable on the wooden chair and the mage-in-training placed her egg basket safely in the middle of the table.

"No," Norne answered, shaking her head

"Any idea if any are coming?" Iris asked, searching.

"No. The last merchant we had left just last night when he heard that the prince was coming, and headed straight back home to Khadein. Why? Why do you ask?"

Iris shrugged and pushed a lock of raven hair behind her ear. "I'm just trying to figure out why our prince would be coming to our village. Besides our convenient location to the border and our merchant visitors, we're not the type of place a member of the royal family would want to visit."

Norne looked surprised, as if she had not thought about that.

"But maybe I shouldn't be worrying over such things, the prince is coming!" Iris said, her young girl excitement of getting to see the prince with her own eyes finally bubbling up in her chest.

"Yeah!" Norne agreed, her pervious excitement returning at full blast as evident when she shot up out of the chair, toppling it behind her but she didn't give a moment notice, "Oh Iris! This is a once-in-a-lifetime-opportunity! Ah!"

"What?" Iris asked, not liking the look of realization that crossed her good friend's face.

Norne looked down frantically at her clothes and ran her hands hysterically over her deep pink hair. "Oh my gosh! Iris! We have to get dress!"

"Dress?"

"The prince is coming this afternoon and we aren't even ready!"

"What?"

Norne tugged Iris's plain brown tunic and held up her own scarf. "We can't see the prince like this! We need to look our best!"

"Eh?"

The next thing Iris knew, she was being tugged out of the _Flying Pegasus_ by Norne's tight and insistent hand and led to the house just across the way from the Inn.

"We need to bathe!"

"But I already had my bath!"

"We need to do something about your hair."

"My hair?"

"Maybe we can put it in a chignon?"

"No way!"

"Or maybe a dutch braid."

"No! My hair is fine!"

"How about putting on some bows?"

"Ew!"

"Or maybe a nice ribbon?"

"Are you kidding? Let go!"

"And I'm sure I have a few of my good dresses for you to wear."

"Dress? What dress?"

"I'm thinking the nice pink one!"

"No! Not the pink!"

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Veteran Paladin Knight Jagen led the small escort of knights surrounding the elaborate carriage, protecting the passenger inside. Although there had been no sign of trouble since they started this journey, one could not be too careful. Bandits were pest upon the lands, especially when they formed large groups. A small group of bandits might run from the site of group of armored Knights, unless they were stupid enough to try. But a large and organized group would dare enough to attack, hoping to pillage the young prince of his few belongings or worse, capture the prince himself and hold him for ransom.

However, bandits were the furthest thing from his mind right now.

He was more worried about how he was going to face Zini when they reunited, along with Malledus, who was accompanying them.

Officially, Jagen was escorting Prince Marth to the Altea/Khadein border visit a trading village as a way for the prince to personally get-to-know the humbler people of his land. These were ones who did not live in large cities or towns or near the ocean, and had to live off the land itself, in order to survive.

Unofficially, Jagen and Malledus were sent by King Cornelius himself to try and convince Zini to return to the King's side.

Zini was an unrecognized hero to world, but known to those who did know and had known him as the Mage of Shadow, due to his own insistence that he would remain in the shadows of the past. Only whispers of his title had passed into the ears of the new generation, but none of his deeds or who he really was.

It was Zini who saved King Cornelius from an attempted assassination from an assassin group stationed in Grust back when the King was the Crown Prince of Altea. But the Mage gave all the credit to Jagen instead, saying he was just someone who was just doing his royal duty as a Knight of Altea and Jagen was the one that stopped the arrows from piercing the then-prince's chest, even though it was Zini who had held up Jagen's shield in front the arrows' intended target.

But that humble act had brought Jagen into Cornelius's father's attention and favor and Jagen had been offered to become assigned as Cornelius's personal protector. The position as the personal protector of a member of the Altean Royal Family was one many Knights of Altea wanted, but few earned and even less offered. Although, both Jagen and Cornelius knew it was Zini who earned the position, Jagen took it nonetheless, if only because the former King of Altea would not take "no" for an answer.

Although the people of Altea and those who heard the story beyond the borders would remember that day as the day Jagen rescued the then-Prince Cornelius from an attempted assassination, to the Paladin Knight and the now King of Altea, it would always be the day Zini had become their close friend and ally.

Later on, Malledus became the tactician of Altea's armies, and during a skirmish with some enraged Earth Dragons, Zini saved and protected him from the dragons' wild attacks. Since then, whenever they were on a battlefield, Zini would stay and protect Malledus. When asked, Zini would just smile and say that tacticians were too valuable to lose and that he wouldn't be a very good knight if he let the "brain" of an army get killed in battle.

"Now wouldn't that be disastrous!" he would say with a smile, although Malledus sometimes wondered if he meant letting him die or his reputation as a knight.

As time went on, Zini continued to do remarkable deeds for the kingdom and its protectors during the small border wars and dragon skirmishes, but always gave the credit to someone else or disappeared before anyone realized he was there. It was always puzzling to his friends and allies as to why Zini was so humble and did not want the recognition he so obviously earned. Any attempts to award or thank him were simply brushed aside with a wave of his arm and a shake of his head. A handsome smile would plaster itself on Zini's unpretentious face and he would turn around and walk away. It was always like that, be it with a high noble-born or a simple peasant child a friend or a stranger.

Eventually, Zini had fallen in love with an older peasant woman and retired from the army to become a farmer. Cornelius, Jagen and Malledus had not seen him since, but Zini did occasionally write letters to them. From those letters, they learned that Zini and his wife had a child, a son, and from that child, four grandchildren. Ultimately however, Zini's wife died from old age, never to meet her two youngest grandchildren. And tragically, not long before the birth of Zini's youngest grandchild, Zini's son died from winter illness. Not long afterward, due to complications during birthing, Zini's daughter-in-law followed after him, leaving behind a newborn baby and three young children for Zini to look after.

When Cornelius heard of the tragedy that had befallen Zini and his family, the King offered a place at the castle for them to live. He also offered Zini a job as an instructor and trainer for aspiring mages wanting to join the army. But Zini turned the offer down, and proceeded to gently but firmly explained to the king that he was quite finished with both the army and the city life. He was quite happy with living in a village like Sera Village, growing soybean crops, raising sheep and chickens until the end of his days. The villagers themselves loved him and were happy to lend a hand on the farm or watch the children for him until they were old enough to help out and look after themselves. With that said, Zini asked the King to never ask him again and leave him and his grandchildren at peace. He then proceeded to congratulate the king on having a son, who by then was a few months old.

That had been a little over ten years ago and Zini had not sent one letter since that day. Out of the sake of their friendship, Cornelius, Jagen and Malledus respected Zini's wish and left him and his surviving family alone.

But disturbing rumors from across the southern ocean border had reached the King's ears and he was growing uneasy with each rumor: talks of an old enemy from the past, the rise of another empire of Manaketes, and the disturbingly increasing hostilities with the Earth Dragons. Despite having no actual proof beyond these rumors, Cornelius feared that war might be on the horizon. If his fears were proven true, Cornelius wanted every ally he had at his disposal as he subtly prepared his knights for a possible war until confirmation of an affirmation was achieved.

So, even though he knew was forcing himself, and by consequence his two remaining close friends, to break their word, Cornelius ordered Jagen and Malledus to go to Sera Village and try their best to convince Zini to come back to the castle. Cornelius asked them to tell Zini that since it was his idea, he would take the blame of breaking their unspoken pledge. Then Malledus popped up the idea of bringing Prince Marth along.

When asked to explain, Malledus told them that even though Zini was now a former Knight of Altea, his oath to protect, not just the kingdom, but also the royal family, still stood. Marth would also stand as a testimony of Zini's deed when he saved Cornelius's life all those years ago. Although not credited for the save, it did not change the fact that it if it wasn't for Zini, Marth and his elder sister, Elice, would have not been born. Malledus also pointed out that in his last letter, Zini had mentioned regret for not being able to meet the prince.

It had also helped that Marth loved visiting the towns and villages of his father's kingdom. Using that, they could easily disguise their real mission under the excuse of it being one of the prince's allowed trips to the people outside, giving Zini the privacy he valued.

But even with their true mission safely under wraps, Jagen still felt uneasy at having to be reunited with his old friend this way. He just knew that it was not going to look good for them in Zini's eyes, breaking their pledge to leave him alone in his earned peace.

"Malledus, sir, are we almost there?" Jagen heard the voice of the Altea prince asked, voice polite but he could hear the undertone of excitement and eagerness.

The aging paladin turned his head a little to look over his shoulder. The prince had stuck his head out the window closest to the carriage box where Malledus sat, holding the horses' reins steadily in his old and withered hands.

"Soon, sire, soon," Malledus soothed the growing anxious young boy, "It will be about midday when we reach the town. Don't worry, there will be plenty of time for you to explore and meet new people, while Jagen and I do about our business."

"If I may ask, what is your and Jagen's business?" Marth, the young prince, asked, curious but courteously.

"Jagen and I are planning to meet an old friend of ours, whom we've not seen in many years," the old tactician explained, seeing no harm in telling the prince the rudimentary truth of the visit, "We hope he'll be accompanying us back to the castle when our stay is over. If he agrees, he'll most likely be bringing his family along with him. I believe he has a grandchild about your age."

"Really?" Marth smiled at the thought of bringing a friend back to his home, "I hope he agrees then."

"So do I, sire, so do I," Malledus sighed.

_As do I,_ Jagen agreed silently as the village came into view upon the horizon.


	4. Meeting the Granddaughter

A/N: The chapters are getting longer then I expected. I hope all that are reading this story are enjoying my updates.

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**Chapter Three: Meeting the Granddaughter**

In the end, Iris had managed to persuade Norne to not put her in the pink dress, although it had been through the means of what she would have to dub as aggressive negotiations. She felt bad that she had basically threatened Norne with the thought of burning the dress with her fire magic, and she would have to apologize for that. But she was serious about not wearing anything pink as she did not like wearing the color, no matter how pretty she thought it was.

Instead, Iris agreed to wear a green dress of a soft fabric with long white rolled up sleeves and a white cloth belt. The dress wasn't very long; the end of the skirt stopped just below the knee. No woman in the village had dresses that went beyond the top- or mid-section of the lower calves of their legs. This was to keep dirt and mud on the ground and the roads from staining their lovely skirts and to avoid tripping that could potentially rip the dress. She had to borrow a pair of Norne's boots as her own were well-worn and would not fit well with the dress. She let Norne pull her hair into a high ponytail that Iris was comfortable with and tie it up with a white ribbon. Norne had pulled the ribbon into a bow, but Iris tugged the bow loose.

Much to her surprise, Norne did not choose to wear pink. Instead, her friend chose a similar dress, like the one Iris was wearing, that was red and white, instead of green and white. The cloth belt was also red and the sleeves were shorter to the point where they did not have to be rolled up. Iris pulled her friend's hair into a simple bun at the nape of the neck. It was all she could do as Leona had little skill when it came to styling up hair. As a result, all the hairstyles Iris learned from her older sister were quick and/or simple.

There was no mirror in Norne's bedroom expect for a small hand mirror she got for a birthday present from her parents. Iris held the mirror up in her hand, trying to see how she looked, before putting it down in realized annoyance at what she was doing.

She felt like she was acting like one of those girls that would swoon at the sight of a prince. Then, once they regained consciousness, they would stalk the poor boy around, wanting his attention and hoping for just a taste of his affections. Then they would probably daydream of him taking them away to his palace where she would become his bride. From what little she had heard of the young prince, he was a polite boy, but Iris did not think he would appreciate being swooned and stalked by girls who were essentially strangers. Not to mention, the prince was not even his teenage years yet. Marriage was one of the farthest things in a young boy's mind if the local village boys were anything to go by.

She flooded herself with the relief of the assurance that Norne and herself would not act like that. Her good friend was a cheery person, sometimes overly so, but she was also realistic even at her young age. Norne wouldn't waste time on trying to convince the prince to court her. Instead she would make it her personal job that the prince was comfortable during his stay at the Inn. She would be courteous and treat him like a guest because it was how she was taught by her innkeeper mother when it came to visitors at their inn. She only dressed up when she wanted to make a good impression on new guests, especially when they were of higher rank because it was the respectful thing to do.

Iris could and would do no less the same, even if she was more likely to be passed over.

After all, it wasn't like she was special. She wasn't and she didn't want to be.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky, the shadows at their shortest length, and the temperature at its warmest when the carriage and its small escort reached Sera Village. Jagen asked an old man sitting on the steps of a house for directions to the local Inn. The old man directed them to a place called the _Flying Pegasus_, the only inn in town and assured them that would be plenty of room for them, as the inn was currently vacant of any travelers. Jagen thanked the old man and the escort and the carriage holding its precious passenger went on their way.

It took a bit of searching, but Jagen eventually spotted a hanging sign with a large craving of a swooping Pegasus on its light colored wood. The door and some of the windows of the building were open to let in some cool breeze. Just to be sure, Jagen called to the young black-haired girl standing close to the door on the inside.

"Excuse me!"

The girl gave a little jump and turned around. Jagen took notice that the girl seemed to be about the same age as the prince. He also could not help but notice that the girl's blue eyes seem to sparkle magnificently even though she was standing in the shade of the doorway. The only other person Jagen had known whose eyes held an almost majestic sparkle was Zini. But his old friend and former fellow knight's eyes had been a deep green color, not the lovely shade of blue of the young girl's eyes.

"Would this happen to be the _Flying Pegasus _Inn?" the Paladin Knight asked

"Aye, this is the _Flying Pegasus_," the girl answered, "Would you happen to be part of the royal escort we've heard would be coming today?"

"Aye," Jagen answered

"Very well, sir, I shall fetch the lady."

With that, the girl turned around and headed deeper into the building. Jagen dismounted his horse and signaled his men to do the same. Malledus hopped off the carriage box and opened the carriage door to allow the prince out.

Marth stepped out of the carriage, looking curiously at the inn's exterior. It was a modest two-story building of timber wood and strong carved dark wood beams under a single triangular-shaped grey shingled roof. It was of a much humbler nature then most of the inns Marth had been to before in the richer towns and cities, but its modesty somehow made the building seem that much more comfortable to stay in.

Marth followed behind Malledus and Jagen into the building with two of the knight escorts following after, carrying the prince's trunk between them. Upon entering the inn, they were greeted by a red-haired woman, whom they assumed was the innkeeper. Standing dutifully behind her was the girl Jagen had seen at the doorway, and standing next to her was a pink-haired girl of about the same age.

"I bid my lords and his majesty welcome," the woman greeted, giving them a curtsy in greeting. "I pray you will find my humble inn comfortable during your stay in our village."

"I thank you, my dear lady, for receiving us on such short notice," Malledus said, "I know our coming was rather sudden."

"Not at all, my lord," the innkeeper assured, "My inn has been rather vacant as of late due to the winter snow. Even with its recent passing, I fear I won't have a full house for at least another month. You came at a good time."

The innkeeper beckoned the pink-haired girl over. "My daughter will show his majesty to his room. As per your request, it is our best single room." The woman looked down at Marth and gave him a warm motherly smile and a little bow of her head. "I hope you enjoy your stay sire."

"Thank you very much," Marth thanked, giving her a bow of thanks.

"If you'll follow me, sire," the innkeeper's pink-haired daughter spoke up, "I shall show you to your room and then give you a tour of our little facility. This way please."

Malledus and Jagen watched the girl lead their prince up the stairs to his assigned room, followed closely by the two knights carrying the trunk and the rest of the escort. Once the prince was out of sight, the two men turned back to the innkeeper.

"Now I mentioned in the notice that I and my fellow companion are here to meet someone?" Malledus asked

"Yes, I remember," the innkeeper nodded, "You came to meet Zini."

Behind her, the black-haired girl looked surprised at hearing this.

"Aye, that is correct," Jagen nodded, "Can you tell us where to find him?"

"Oh, I can do better than that," the innkeeper smiled before beckoning the black-haired girl over to her. The older woman pulled the girl to stand in front of her and rest her hands against the girl's shoulders. "My lords, this is Iris, my daughter's best friend and Zini's granddaughter."

The Paladin Knight and the Altea Tactician looked at the girl in surprise. They had not expected to meet one of Zini's grandchildren so early into their visit, much less being the second person they've met.

Jagen mentally slapped himself. The sparkling eyes should have given it away even if the coloring was all wrong.

"My lords…" Zini's granddaughter, Iris, spoke softly, almost shy, "You know my grandfather?"

"Aye, that we do, young miss," Malledus answered, kneeling down as to not intimidate the young girl.

"How?"

"We met while he was in the Altean army," the old tactician said. He paused, had a sudden thought. "Has your grandfather ever mentioned being in the army?"

"Yes, but he doesn't talk about it."

"That sounds just like Zini," Jagen sighed. Not even his own grandchildren knew of their grandfather's great deeds.

"I think he mentioned having a great number of friends in the army though," Iris said quietly, "Would you be two of them?"

"Aye," Malledus answered again, "Your grandfather has a long history with us. He was the first friend I had when I joined, and an even longer friend of Jagen's."

"Wow," Iris said astonished. "But…if you're such good friends with grandpa, how come my siblings and I haven't heard or seen of you before?"

The Paladin Knight and the Altea Tactician looked at each other for a moment. "That…is a long story," Jagen answered.

Iris frowned, her sparkling eyes narrowing in un-acceptance of the answer.

"Iris..." Malledus said, taking one of the girl's hands into both his own, "I know you must be curious, and no doubt, a little suspicious of us, but I assure you that we are telling you the truth. We are friends of your grandfather and wish him no harm or ill will. But it is important for us to meet with him. Will you please take us to him?"

Iris looked into Malledus's kind eyes, trying to find any hint of mendacious in them. According to her grandfather, one could find truth of a person's character by looking into their eyes. It was a trick Iris had little experience using, but it was one she hoped to develop as time went on. But right now, she could not tell if the honesty she could see in the stranger's eyes was the genuine article or not.

"When in doubt, trust your gut," grandfather would say.

"I…" Iris started, "…I suppose so."

Malledus smiled reassuringly. "I thank you."

"We'll head for Zini when his majesty returns from his tour," Jagen said as Malledus stood up.

* * *

Tori had to blink his eyes several times to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Even then he couldn't be sure he wasn't. This had to be a delusion brought on by working too hard. It had to be.

There was no way his little sister was leading two men, one who was clad in heavy red armor and carrying a lance, and a young blue-haired boy wearing a hairband-like crown, towards the house. Especially not those men and that boy!

Not the personal protector of the King! Not Altea's top tactician! And certainly not the Prince of Altea!

Tori let go of the handle of the axe he had been using to chop up some wood to make logs for the woodpile, letting the axe stay wedged against the top of small tree stump, and went inside the cottage.

When she heard the front door swing shut, Leona looked up from where she was sitting in the kitchen, pausing in her reed basket weaving. Her younger brother couldn't be done with the wood chopping already. Their wood pile had almost been completely empty and she knew Tori wouldn't stop chopping until at least it had been half-full from its original size. She set the mostly-finished basket on the table, brushed a lock of black hair out of her eye, and walked into the living room.

Tori was standing stiff in front of the front door, blue eyes impossibly wide, mouth hanging slightly open and hands twitching.

Leona raised an eyebrow.

What could possibly be the matter?

Leona walked over to her younger, if taller, brother and snapped her fingers at his face.

The sound of her fingers snapping so close to his face startled Tori back into his senses.

"Wha? What?" he said, blinking rapidly

"What's the matter with you?" Leona asked, crossing her arms and frowning

"Leona? Um…" Tori pointed to the door behind him with both his thumbs, "Can you check outside?"

"Why?"

"Just to confirm if I was having a delusion?"

"A delusion?" Leona asked disbelieving

"Yeah?"

Leona rolled her eyes, but complied with her little brother's request, hoping this had better not be Tori's idea of joke. She wanted and had to get that basket done today as she had promised her customer that she would have the basket finished and delivered to her by tomorrow.

But the moment the young woman opened the door, she froze, wondering if she had stumbled into her own delusion for a second.

"So?" Tori asked from behind her.

Leona closed the door and, very seriously, turned back to the platinum blonde-haired haired teenager. "Go get Ayden and grandpa," she ordered.

"Does that mean I wasn't dreaming?" Tori asked, his face turning white.

Leona growled and kicked one of his shins, "Move it!"

"I'm moving!"

Despite the pain in his now bruised shin, Tori rushed out the back door as if an earth dragon was chasing after him.

* * *

"Grandpa! Brother!"

Ayden looked up from where he was trying to pull a particularly strong sow thistle from out of the soil of the soybean field. His little brother was running like the dickens up to where he and Grandpa Zini were weeding the field. But thankfully, he was mindful not to step on the growing soybeans or any soy thistles that they may have missed because Tori wasn't wearing any shoes.

The teenager stopped a few paces away from them and bent down the catch his breath.

"What's the matter, Tori? You seem pale," Grandpa Zini asked, concerned, "Is everything alright?"

"I don't know!" Tori answered, "But you two got to come to the house right now!"

"What?" Ayden shot to his feet, "Did something happen? Is Iris alright?"

Usually, the call for alarm around their home meant something had happened to Iris, typically when she had an accident involving her magic. Sometimes when those accidents occurred, the young mage-in-training got hurt, sometimes seriously. It had happened before and scared Aiden nearly to an early grave.

"It's not Iris!"

"Not Iris?" Ayden said relieved for hearing that, "Did something happen to Leona then?"

"No!"

"Then what? What's the emergency?"

"Guests!"

"Guests?" Grandpa Zini asked, "Why are you so worked up about guests? We know just about everyone in the village, and they are free to come and visit."

"But you don't understand!" Tori shouted, arms waving frantically in the air, "These guests aren't from the village! They're the Prince and two Altean Knights!"

A silence fell over the field, broken only by the sound of the breeze.

Then Grandpa Zini stood up, dropped his hand hoe next to the half full bucket of plucked sow thistles, and stripped off his dirty farm gloves. His face was set in an unrecognizable look that seemed to be a mixture of seriousness and anger if Ayden had to guess. He had never seen his grandfather like that before, and it unnerved him.

"Show me," he said in the most serious voice his grandsons have ever heard.

* * *

And there you have it, all of Iris's family have been introduced.


	5. Rude Greetings

A/N: This chapter almost didn't get done today because I wanted to take the day off when I heard the great news that **Fire Emblem: Awakening IS COMING TO NORTH AMERICA. **But I found out that there are plans coming up tommarrow that will take me away from my computer for most of the day. That means, I may not submit be able to submit anything tomarrow.

I also appolize for the slow going that the story seems to be taking, but don't worry, action will come, I promise!

* * *

**Chapter Four: Rude Greetings**

Iris was not sure what to think when her grandfather appeared in the family room entryway. His old gentle face was pulled into a tight frown as he surveyed two of the three guests sitting in his family room. Usually, her grandfather would be smiling welcomingly towards any visitors visiting his home. He was would greet them warmly and make them feel comfortable during their visit, but right now, it looked like he would rather like these visitors to be somewhere else; preferably far, far away from him.

It made Iris wonder if she had done the wrong thing bringing the men and the prince here to her home.

From where he sat next to the prince, Jagen had to fight to keep from wincing. He knew they wouldn't be well-received by his old friend. The only reason the old mage had not thrown a fireball at him and Malledus or direct a bolt of lightning at them, or worse, summon a swarm upon them, was because his old friend had taken notice of the shifting nervously young boy sitting next to the Paladin Knight.

The building tension that seemed to encase the room was broken by the two claps of hands seeking everyone's attention. Almost at exactly the same time, five pairs of eyes went to the oldest lady in the house, otherwise classified as Leona.

"Alright! Let's not just stand around like statues! We have guests in the house!" Leona said scorning at her grandfather, "We are being very bad hosts for not welcoming them in. It's very rude of us!"

Jagen allowed himself to blink. Just like that the tension between the three old friends had been broken.

"Yes, you're quite right," Zini sighed, rubbing two fingers hard against the bridge of his nose between his eyes, "Forgive me, Leona. I fear this is quite a shocking devolvement. I had not been expecting to meet anyone today."

Leona sent her grandfather a deep frown. "That is no excuse!"

Zini nodded, giving a sheepish half-smile. "You are quite correct, unfortunately for me."

Iris caught the prince staring at her direction, looking muddled with confusion at the rapid turn of tension and emotion in the room. His eyes asked the question, but all she could give the prince for an answer was an equally confused helpless little shrug of her shoulders. Never in her life had she seen her grandfather acted like that to visitors, especially not to those he considered friends.

It once again made Iris suspicious of Jagen and Malledus's intentions and word that they were old friends of her grandfather, but it was too late for her to do anything now. The men were here in the cottage her family shared, and her grandfather would have to deal with them.

Zini entered the family room to walk over to his former comrades-in-arms and held out a hand in greeting.

"Malledus, Jagen, it is a pleasure to meet you again," he greeted, his voice warm, but his green sparkling eyes still held a hint of his displeasure, warning them that he was not letting them off the hook about breaking their unvoiced but agreed upon pledge.

It was Malledus who stood up and take Zini's hand to give it a small shake. "And it's a pleasure to see you again, Sir Zini," the old tactician greeted.

Zini rolled his eyes in mock annoyance as he flicked a long white bang of his eye. "It's been years since I had been called by that bothersome title. Should I be annoyed or glad that despite all these years of retirement, you still call me that?"

"Whichever you wish, Sir Zini."

"Quite right," the old mage said, "Now I see you've met my youngest grandchild."

"Aye, that we have," Malledus said, giving the girl a friendly smile, "She was kind enough to bring us here."

"I see," Zini nodded, before turning around to stand next to his oldest granddaughter, "This here is Leona, my second grandchild and the lady of this here humble cottage."

"How do you do, my lords." Leona bowed in greeting instead of curtsying since she lacked a skirt, wearing instead a nice yellow blouse and her comfortable pants, instead of her work pants, as Zini had excused her from working outside today so she could concentrate on her basket weaving. The thought of skirts reminded Leona that she would have to ask her little sister why she was wearing a dress, since she knew Iris didn't leave the house wearing one.

"We are all quite well, Miss Leona, thank you," Malledus answered. He thought that if Leona was about two decades or so older and her hair was brown instead of black, she would look just like Zini's late wife, her grandmother, when she and Zini first met each other. Both women had the same short black hair with long locks framing, almost curtaining, their faces. Leona even shared her grandmother's large almond shaped brown eyes and light olive skin tone, something she shared with her father.

"Tori, Ayden, you boys can come in," Zini said to the direction of the teenager and his older brother standing just beyond the room's entryway to the kitchen.

His youngest grandson, and third grandchild, Tori, took a step forward and hesitated, unsure if he wanted to be in the same room with a duo of higher-class men and the young prince, when all he was wearing was his overalls. But an insistent shove from behind by his elder brother's hand, forced him to enter the family room.

Ayden stepped around his reluctant brother and gave Jagen and Malledus a bow in greeting. "I bid you welcome, sires. I am Ayden, Zini's oldest grandson. It is an honor to have you all in our home," he said.

The elder of the platinum blonde-haired brothers looked over at the prince and gave him an even deeper bow. "Especially you, my prince."

"Thank you," Marth thanked with a polite nod of his head.

When it was Tori's turn to greet the guests, the poor teenaged boy stood frozen and speechless where he stood, unable to figure out what was appropriate to say.

After a few long moments, Leona gave a little impatient growl and elbowed her little brother in the arm. Tori gave a small "eep"-like sound, stood at attention and bow so low that his long hair was touching the carpet.

"!" he said to the floor.

Three pairs of eyes blinked at the bent over boy, Zini rolled his eyes in amusement, Ayden sighed, and Iris couldn't help but let out a giggle, while Leona growled again and hit Tori yet again, this time forcing him to straighten up.

"Now, what brings you three all the way out here?" Zini asked, crossing his arms. His eyes shimmered wildly with his want for exact answers from his two old friends now!

Jagen took in a deep breath to prepare himself. "Officially, Malledus and I are here to protect Prince Marth during his visit here. However, we are also here, specifically, to talk to you Zini." He glanced around at Zini's gathered grandchildren. "We would prefer it if we could talk to you privately? The prince does not have to present."

Zini was silent for a long moment, contemplating.

"Very well," he agreed, "Ayden."

Ayden turned to face his grandfather.

"Go back to the field and finish the weeding."

Ayden nodded and headed for the back door.

"Tori! Put some shoes on and go help your brother."

"Aye!" The teenage boy snatched up a pair of boots sitting next to the front door and ran after his brother, glad to be away from the trio of nobles that were their guests.

"I'll just finish my basket in front yard," Leona suggested, heading for the kitchen to grab the basket, her tools and the reeds.

Zini nodded and turned to Iris, who had been standing silently in the corner of the room. He gave her his gentlest smile. "Iris, why don't you take the prince up to your room and play games while I talk with our guests?"

"I…" Iris found herself speechless.

The prince of Altea in her bedroom, playing games with her? Could this day possible be filled with anymore disbelief and impossibility?

"I wouldn't mind, if you don't," the prince said, "It would be nice to get to know you a bit more."

"I…suppose?" Iris said, rubbing an arm shyly, "If you're sure you wouldn't mind, your highness."

The prince gave her a smile. "You can call me Marth, you know."

"Eh?"

Obviously the day could…


	6. The Mahjong Game

A/N: In apology for missing yesterday, I made this chapter the longest one: 3,635 words over a course of six pages. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter Five: The Mahjong Game**

Iris, despite her feeling of awkwardness, led the prince…Marth…up the stairs to the bedroom she shared with Leona. Due to the compactness of the cottage's interior design, there were only two bedrooms: the master bed and a separate bed that was originally meant to be a guest room. When they were younger, Iris and her siblings had to share the guest room. But as time went on, the need for the girls and the boys to be sleeping in separate accommodations became apparent, especially when both Ayden and Leona reached their teens. Zini had to converted part of the attic into a comfy loft where Ayden and Tori could sleep, while the girls stayed in the guest bedroom.

As she opened the door, Iris asked, "Do you play mahjong, your high…Marth?"

Out of the polite habit of manners, Iris almost called Math by his title before remembering that she had been given permission to call the prince by his birth name. Although, she had no idea why she was given such permission when all she did was led him and his two senior escorts to her home to meet her grandfather. Her mind had been flown into a loop of confusion when she heard the Paladin Knight, Jagen if she remembered correctly, say that Marth did not have to attend their discussion.

It made Iris wonder why the Altean prince was even around if the senior knights' objective was to talk to her grandfather by themselves.

"I've heard of the game, but I've never played it myself," Marth answered.

Iris directed Marth to sit at the small table in the room while she went to the trunk next to the wardrobe that she had to share with Leona, along with every piece of furniture in the bedroom. Iris had few personal possessions of her own and she had to keep them safely put away in her trunk.

She opened the trunk's lid and reach in for the little bag that held the wooden mahjong tiles. After a bit of digging, she grabbed hold of the bag and brought it over to the table and sat down in the chair opposite of the chair Marth sat on, patiently waiting and watching her.

As Iris arranged all two hundred and eighty-eight tiles in a special four-layer pattern, nicknamed the "Turtle formation," as Zini had taught her, she explained, "Truthfully, I don't know how mahjong is properly played because Grandpa did not know all the rules. He merely watched other people play the game, but never asked to join in to fully learn the rules. So he invented this version and my siblings and I have played mahjong this way since he made these tiles."

"Really? Your grandfather made these?" Marth said, amazed as he studied the pine wood game pieces. Painted on the little pieces of wood, in colors of red, blue and green, were circles, lines and letters. The number of circles and lines differentiated from one to nine, while the choice of letters seemed have been picked at total random. The little drawings fit so perfectly on the small space of the wood that Marth wondered if Iris's grandfather had any experience in painting as only a skilled painter could paint so good.

"Aye, Grandpa is good with his hands," Iris nodded, "He made these for me when I was about six, but the whole family had taken a liking to it since we have few things to entertain us, especially during the wintertime."

Life on a farmstead, especially when there were no large cities nearby, meant that her family did not have a lot of gold to spend on nonessentials, such as games. Like most of the village, they survived mainly on trade. They traded their soybean crops, eggs and wool for food, mainly meat, for themselves and feed and grain for the animals. More often than not, Leona's handmade baskets were traded for other necessities, such as wood for the stove and fireplace and vital, if cheaply made, clothing. Sometimes the baskets could be sold for gold, but that mainly happened when the traveling merchants were visiting the village.

In a small trading village like Sera Village, when it came to gold, good and high-classed materials and luxury items, it all had to come from outside the village.

"Now, here's how we play," Iris begun when she placed the last tile into place, "The goal of the game is get the most points by matching open pairs of identical tiles and remove them from play. The number of points you get are equal to the number on the matching tiles, for example if you choose to remove a pair of tiles with nine sticks, you receive nine points. The letter tiles are worth twelve points, so they are the most vital as they have the highest number of points. Usually the player with the most pairs of letter tiles wins the game. Now, in order to remove a tile, it must be open. By open, I mean that there aren't any tiles on the left or right sides and there isn't another tile on top of it. Next, you have to find the exact same tile, and it must be open as well. The game ends when we've gathered up all the titles or there are either no more open tiles left. The one with the highest score wins or if the scores are the same, it's a draw. Do you understand?"

Marth nodded.

"Okay, I'll go first then."

Iris gave the pieces a long hard searching look, even though Marth could see about thirty-five open tiles. There had to be about sixteen pairs for her to choose from. Why was she taking so long to choose from?

Marth came to the conclusion that she must have been looking for the highest matching set.

But much to his surprise, Iris chose instead to take the pair of four circles, instead of the seven sticks pair.

Four points for Iris.

Marth grabbed the pair of seven sticks.

Seven points for Marth.

Iris grabbed a pair of three sticks. Seven points.

Marth grabbed a pair of five circles. Twelve points.

Iris smiled, "I knew you'd grab that pair."

Marth blinked, confused. "Huh?"

"But by removing that pair, you opened up the matching tile I was waiting for." Iris took ahold of the two matching letter "N" tiles that Marth had just freed by removing both the seven sticks pair and five sticks pair, and held them up for the prince to see. "Beginners often think that by taking the highest available match pairs during the beginning phase of the game, they can have a significant head start over the other player. While this tends to work fairly well, it however blinds them to the board. You see, by removing these "free" tiles, we are opening up new tiles that were previously trapped, allowing the other player a chance to grab those tiles. Meaning that the player had allowed their opponent a chance to grab high point tiles when they should have waited and forced their opponent to open the tiles for them.

"You see, a part of Mahjong is the testing of the player's knowledge of tactics, and use of their observation and memory skills. Not even this version of the game has lost the need for those skills. The trick is to force your opponent into freeing high point tiles for you during their turn."

"Ah! I think I get what you mean," Marth nodded.

"Good, now let's continue."

For the rest of the game, Marth did his best to plan strategies before removing a pair of tiles until there were no more moves left on the table. But mainly due to his inexperience, Marth ended up losing the game with two hundred and twenty-three points to Iris's two hundred and eighty-seven. Although, he was proud of himself for managing to grab eight out of twenty twelve-point pairs to Iris's elven out of twenty. It was more than he had expected himself to grab during his first time at this game.

"May we go around round?" Marth asked, "That was quite fun."

"Of course," Iris smiled, "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

As Iris gathered up the titles, Marth was pleased to see that she now seemed to be more comfortable around him then when she lead him up to her bedroom, "May I ask you something?"

"Of course. Go ahead."

"I've noticed how lovely your dress is," the prince began, "Do you often dress like that?"

"No," Iris answered, beginning to arrange the first layer of the "Turtle formation." "My sister and I don't own any nice dresses. This dress is actually barrowed. Norne practically forced me into it when she heard you were coming. She wanted us to look nice for when you came."

"Who is Norne?"

"The pink-haired girl at the inn."

"Oh that's her name. She didn't say her name to me. I take it you two are friends?"

"For about as long as I can remember," Iris said, placing the last tile of the first layer of the "Turtle formation" into place before starting with the second layer, "Her parents own the _Fly Pegasus_ and they were friends of my father when they were growing up. I guess you can say they became a part of the family."

"If it is not too bold of me to ask, where are your parents?" Marth asked, remembering that he did not see any other older adults besides Iris's grandfather when her family introduced themselves in the family room.

Iris paused in her arranging to look Marth in the eye, giving him an unreadable gaze as her eyes sparkled seriously. Marth shifted nervously in his seat, thinking he had been too bold. "I'm sorry, forgive me for my boldness," he said, bowing his head low in apology.

Horrified at the sight of the prince bowing his head to her, Iris raised her hands, waving them frantically. "No, no, you've done nothing wrong!"

When the prince raised his head back up, Iris placed her hands back down on the table. "It was just strange to hear someone ask that question," she explained, "Everyone in the village knows what happened, so no one had to ask."

"Oh. I see."

Iris went back to arranging the tiles. "To answer your question, my parents are dead. My father died of winter illness before I was born. My mother died from internal bleeding just after she gave birth to me. It was so unexpected because she had successfully given birth to my three siblings without any complications. And because the nearest place to go for Clerics or Priests is about a week's travel away, even if we could have sent someone for help, no one would have reached her in time."

"I'm…sorry."

"What for?" Iris asked, "It is not an uncommon thing around here."

Marth blinked in surprise, "What?"

"Death by childbirth is almost a norm around here," Iris explained tactically, though her eyes betrayed the sadness of the truth of her words, "It is why most of the families here are so small. The women don't want to risk having any more than one or two children. My mother was an unusual case because she grew up in a large family in a town near the capital."

Iris's eyes sparkled in wonder and she gave a small smile as she recited the story told to her by her grandfather.

"My father met her when he was traveling to the capital to be apprenticed as a whitesmith, as the village had no such smith at the time. My mother had gotten lost on the way to the capital because she had to outrun some bandits. When my father found her, she was all flustered in a panic. After he calmed her down, he escorted her to the city. I guess you could say it was love at first sight, although they were no older than you are now. In thanks for his kindness, my mother made sure my father was well fed and clothed during his stay at the capital. They became friends and, I'm told, my mother's family loved him for his sense of humor and his bravery for eating my mother's terrible cooking. It seems I have inherited her poor cooking skills since I can't even roast meat over a fire without burning it or setting it on fire." Marth had to cover his mouth with his hand to steam the stream of laughter wanting to escape his mouth, but he couldn't stop a few giggles from escaping.

But Iris smiled nevertheless and let out a small laugh of her own. "I know. It is rather funny. Anyway, years later, when my father's apprenticeship was over, he asked for her hand in marriage. She agreed, of course, and they married before returning to the village. My father set up his own forge in the middle of the village, then settled down to start a family. When my brother, Ayden, was old enough, my father started apprenticing him in the art, so he could have someone to watch over the forge. Grandpa told me that he wanted to teach Tori as well, but never got the chance. But my younger-older brother loves the outdoors, and enjoys taking care of the crops, so he wants to inherit our soybean field instead. Thus, when Ayden was old enough to travel on his own, he set out for the cities to complete his training before returning to work at our father's forge, though he does often help out at home with the field and the sheep.

"As for Leona, my sister, she learned the fine arts of basket weaving and tailoring from my grandmother, whom Tori and I never had the pleasure of meeting. She often walks to the river to gather the reeds and sticks she needs to make the baskets and we get our threads and yarn at the _Flying Pegasus_ when Norne's father has a full stock of them imported from the cities. It is thanks to her that the villagers continue have decent clothes to wear when grandma passed away, as she was the village tailor. As you can imagine, she is often busy weaving baskets and repairing and making clothes for the villagers.

"And Grandpa, he's the happiest with the raising of our sheep and chickens. He loves rearing up the newborn chicks and lambs. And…oh, I'm sorry, I'd had gotten us distracted from our game. I must have bored your ear off."

"Not at all," Marth said with a smile, "I enjoyed listening to you talk about your family. It has given me a good insight on what family life is like out here on the borders of our country. I am pleased to see that good families exist even out here. But you've told me nothing of yourself personally."

Iris sighed and went back to arranging the Mahjong tiles. "There's nothing to say about me. I do not have any special skills or occupations or interests like my siblings. I gather the eggs that we don't set aside for ourselves and I deliver them to our neighbors, who are in dire need of eggs. When I'm not needed to help with the crops, I help out at the _Flying Pegasus, _cleaning out and straightening the rooms and serving meals to the guests. So I am no one special."

Marth's smile widened and he shook his head. "I highly doubt that is true."

Iris sighed and set up the final layers of the "turtle." "That is very kind of you to say, but it is, unfortunately, true that I am not someone special. Not even with my anima talent."

"Anima? Wait…you're a mage?"

Iris looked up to see Marth's surprise and amazement shining in his eyes and on his face. The mage-in-training gave a sigh, readying herself for the disappointment she was going to reveal to the prince.

"Yes, but I'm not a very good mage," she explained, eyes sparkling miserably, "I cause many accidents and near-accidents due to my lack of control. I've nearly burned this cottage down several times over the years. I've destroyed many things, such as our closest neighbor's chicken coop, when I was supposed to be cleaning it out. I've burned down a prized apple tree, a couple of road signs, some of my sister's hard-worked baskets, even my clothes had been set on fire on several occasions. Once I set Norne's hair on fire."

"You WHAT?" Marth's face went flabbergast at the image his mind conjured up of fire on top of the head of the kind if cheery pink-haired girl.

"It was a complete accident! She was just passing by, I broke my concentration to say hello, and the fire just shot right out of my hands and headed straight for her. Norne managed to duck but the flame still caught her hair. We're just lucky Grandpa was there to put the fire out before it caused her serious injury. But she had pain from the burns on her scalp for weeks. I'm sure she still has scars hiding under that cherry pink hair of hers. I thought that would be the end of our friendship."

"But it wasn't, was it?"

"No. Norne kept assuring me that it was her fault for breaking my concentration. But after that, I made sure to never practice magic control around people, except grandpa, again."

Iris looked down at the Mahjong tiles and pick up a pair of two sticks, wanting to restart the game and to stop talking about her disappointing talent.

"All Magic is usually family-blood inherited," Marth continued speaking anyway even as he picked up a pair of two circles, "Who did you inherit it from, or are the first of your family?"

Iris shot the prince an uncomfortable look, but answered regardless as she picked up a pair of nine sticks, "I got it from Grandpa."

Marth paused for moment in grabbing a pair of three sticks. "Your grandfather is a mage?"

"Aye," Iris nodded, grabbing a pair of five circles, "From what little he's told me about his past, he is actually the first of our family to receive magic. Because of that, he was sent to Khadein to learn at its best school despite how poor his family was. When he graduated he came back to Altea and joined the army."

Marth blinked, a thought coming to mind as his fingers enclosed over a seven of sticks. "Did your grandfather happen to work closely with my father, the King?"

"I don't know," Iris answered, grabbing the first open twelve-point pair of the game, "He never talks about his army days. Why do you ask?"

Marth grabbed the second open twelve-point pair. "Because I remembered Father mentioning that during his time as Prince of Altea and much of the early days as the King, he had a friend in the army who was a mage. This mage actually saved his life and I'm pretty sure his name began with a Z."

Iris picked up a pair of four sticks. "Well, I'm not sure and I doubt Grandpa would give us an answer if we ask."

Marth pick up a pair of eight circles. "But we went off topic again. You said you aren't special, even with your anima despite your lack of control over it?"

"That's right, I'm not special," Iris stated, grabbing a pair of two sticks. "And I don't want to be."

"You don't?" Marth asked, taking ahold of a pair of four circles.

"Yup," Iris answered, grabbing the third open twelve-point pair, "I just want to live my life among those I love and care about and nothing more. I don't want to be showcased around like a symbol or something of that sort. Even if I do one day gain full control of my magic, I'm not going to leave this village to become a "proper" mage. I'm going to stay here and use it to protect this place because I'm the only one who can when the time comes and grandpa passes away. That's what I want to do."

Marth paused in the game to look at the mage-in-training with admiration and respect in his eyes. The girl, despite being almost the same age as him, knew what she wanted to do with her life and what was most important to her. So few at their age knew what they wanted and what they could do for their futures. He was even more amazed that she did not want to seek fame and fortune like many young people wanted. Instead she was going to train herself to be a protector and guard the village that was her home, as it had little protection against large groups of bandits and the rare but dangerous dragon attacks, even with the disappointment of her lack of magic control.

As he grabbed the fourth open twelve-point pair, Marth couldn't help but smile at the thought that he was glad to have met Iris and he would be proud to become good friends with her.

The two youths continued playing her game until Malledus knocked on the door, grimly telling Marth that it was time for them to head back to the _Flying Pegasus_. After saying good bye to Iris, the prince fallowed the old tactician down the stairs to where Jagen was waiting them. As they exited, Marth let his head turn towards Zini, who was sitting with his fists clench in his lap on the family room settee and glaring angrily at the floor.

Marth let himself wonder at what could have occurred in the family room while he and Iris were playing Mahjong.


	7. Marth's Kidnapping

A/N: Anyone who has been waiting for the action to start the wait is over! The action begins now!

* * *

**Chapter Six: Marth's Kidnapping**

With a loud sigh, Malledus sank down into one of the two chairs in the room he and Jagen had chosen to share at the inn. After that intensive conversation with Zini, the need for something to drink with a low amount of alcohol to help calm his old nerves had risen to a high level. Malledus had a feeling Jagen was feeling the exact same thing, though probably at a more intense level if he were to guess.

Upon returning to the _Flying Pegasus_, the old tactician asked the kind inkeeper if she could bring up some sherry, preferably oloroso if they had any available, up to his and Jagen's room. The inkeeper informed them that while they didn't have any oloroso sherry, her husband did have the drier Manzanilla stored up in his storeroom. Despite the fact Malledus didn't usually like anything tasting like nuts, he told the lady that it would be fine, and to bring up two bottles.

As they waited for the sherry, Malledus watched Jagen remove his armor. "Tell me, is it just me or do you also feel like we've just faced a whole pack of Earth Dragons and just barely escaped with our heads intact?" the old tactician asked his old friend.

The corners of Jagen's mouth rose up slightly in amusement. "I think a pack of Earth Dragons would have been preferable," the Paladin Knight said, as he undid his gauntlets.

"Yes, you're right," Malledus nodded, "I didn't think it was possible to want to face Earth Dragons then have Zini look at us like that."

During the entire time it took to explain the situation of the potentially high possibility war coming to Altea from the southern kingdoms to Zini, the old mage had just scowled at them. But the way their old friend glowered went beyond that of the familiar cold and flat stares they remembered seeing on Zini's face when he was extremely displeased with someone. There were never any daggers in his green sparkling gaze, but rather that of cold unyielding steel one could see on the padlocks of prison cells. It was the first time, and they prayed it would be the only time despite how doubtful that seemed, both Malledus and Jagen had been on the receiving end of _that _look.

It really did make them feel that facing raging Earth Dragons was the better idea.

A small knock on the door made from a small fist raised them out of their uncomfortable memories. Malledus stood up and walked over to the door, allowing the pink-haired girl, the Innkeeper's daughter, entry.

"Your sherry, my lords," the young girl said. She was nervously holding up the small round tray carrying the two small bottles of Manzanilla Sherry and two handmade ceramic handle-less mugs for them to see. Shakily but somehow keep it steady, she placed the tray on the table, gave them a short but courteous if unnecessary curtsying bow and left without a word, nearly sprinting out of the room, closing the door swiftly behind her.

Malledus had smiled at the sight the shy girl had made and retook his seat. He uncorked the bottle closest to him. He poured a small amount into one of the ceramic mugs, and took a sip. He winced slightly at the salty taste of the nuts, but nonetheless took a larger sip of the alcoholic beverage. It would take a few mouthfuls, but eventually he would get use to the taste enough to be able to ignore the salty tang.

Now completely devoid of his armor, Jagen sat down in the opposite chair and uncorked the remaining bottle. He filled his mug to the brim and took a large mouthful of the sherry into his mouth and swallowed deeply. Unlike Malledus, the Paladin Knight did not mind the nutty taste of the Manzanilla Sherry.

But even as the knights drank, the sherry could not erase the one thing Zini said to them that convinced them that their coming to Sera Village to take their old friend back to the King was indeed a very bad idea.

Zini had said, "I'm dying."

* * *

The waning moon was high in the night sky. Under its light and that of the stars, the village was still and quiet as it rest. The silence of the night was broken only by the singing crickets and the croaking of river frogs.

Snugged warmly under the soft blankets of one of the inn's comfortable beds, Marth slumbered peacefully, his chest rising and falling in the even rhythm of sleep. He slept peacefully, safe in knowledge that he was protected. The surrounding rooms were filled with his father's knights, and two of them were stationed just outside the door. It was an added comfort to know that Jagen and Malledus were just across the hall from him. He had gone to bed warm in the feelings of security.

Because he no reason to expect any danger, he slept blissfully unaware as his room door silently cracked inward. The two knights that were supposed to be guarding the door entered quietly into the room. One of them crept up to the bed, while the other silently closed the well-oiled hinged door.

Marth's eyes shot open when he felt a leather glove clad hand crush down across his mouth, instantaneously tearing and shocking the prince out from whatever quiet and peaceful dream his mind had wandered into during the night, leaving him in what could only be entitled as a waking nightmare.

The prince let out a loud if muffled gasp, and he would have screamed no matter how stifled it would have been with the gloved hand pushed hard against his mouth, but the sight of a knife bearing down before his terror-widened eyes caused his voice to become frozen in his throat. He could not stop his eyes from following the length of the knife, up along an armored cladded arm, and finally arriving at the intruder's face. The expression on the older man's face was terrifying, despite, or maybe because of, the darkness of the room, and what Marth saw in the man's eyes nearly made his heart stop.

"Shhh…" the invader hissed softly "Make one noise, your highness, and you won't make another ever again."

Marth could only twitch his head in what could be the almost subtly of the affirmative of a nod, his blue eyes started to shimmer with unshed tears of sheer terror that he could not stop from forming no matter how hard he tried. The terror he was feeling pitched even higher when he saw the second intruder step up behind the one muffling him. This man was carrying coils of rope and a long strip of knotted cloth.

Marth knew for sure now that these men, whoever they were, were not of his father's knights. They were infiltrators of a foreign sort. But from where they came from and who they worked for, the prince did not know, nor could he ponder on the possibilities as fear had stolen away nearly all of his capacity for deep coherent thought. But one dreadful train of thought kept bubbling up from the maelstrom of dread:

Were Norne and her parents alright? Or had these fearsome foreign infiltrators got to them as well? And if they had done so, what had they done to them?

But such thoughts were forced out of his mind when he felt the tip of the bearing knife poke the skin between his fear-filled eyes, nearly drawing blood.

"Doing good so far, your highness. Now keep on cooperating with us and I won't have to stab you with this. Understand?"

With the sound of his heartbeat thundering wildly in his ears and thumping hard against his chest, Marth managed a tiny nod, meaning it. He was helpless against these armed and armored men. The man drew the knife away from his face and the prince felt a little of the immediate terror decrease, but he still felt his muscles shake. He swallowed hard as the man's hand slowly came away from his mouth.

Without any hesitation, the blankets were pulled back and Marth was turned onto his stomach, his legs laid out straight and feet together. The second man settled onto the bed beside the prince's shoulders and he stuffed what seemed to Marth, to be a large and thick piece sponge past the prince's lips. The strip of cloth with its single thick knot followed. The knot was pulled tight against the sponge, securing it in place as the ends of the cloth were swiftly wrapped once then twice around his head and tied tightly at the nape of his neck.

Next, the one who had brandished the knife snatched up the prince's arms and moved his wrists together near the small of his back, while his partner moved down and sat on the bed near the young boy's feet.

Using one of the ropes, the man holding his arms tied the rope tight around his wrists, binding them together as he tugged the knots firmly into place. Then he slipped a second length of rope up the prince's arms, and loop around his biceps. The man pulled this rope tight, drawing Marth's elbows toward one another and hauled his shoulders back until he let out a muffled groan of discomfort. The villain then tied the rope firmly in place.

Meanwhile, using the longest piece of rope, the other infiltrator busily wrapped the prince's sock clad ankles tightly together to make any range of motion with his feet impossible. He then slipped the end of the rope up to his bound biceps. The length was long enough that Marth didn't have to bend his knees very far, but as the rope was tightly tied to the bindings, any movement with his legs was severely limited.

It all took only a few minutes, but to Marth those minutes seemed long and terrifying. His kidnappers' movements were so precise, and so seemingly well-practiced that it sent a fresh trickle of icy understanding down Marth's spine.

Whoever these men were, they had obviously done this before…many times.

"Okay your highness. Up you go."

The one who hadn't brandished the knife slipped one of his arms between Marth's back and his bound arms and lifted him up onto his knees. The man's other arm encircled Marth's chest and he was then dragged off the bed, his bound feet hitting the floor with a thump that was too soft to alert anyone who might have been awake, though Marth shot that hopeful idea. It was the middle of the night. Everyone was asleep soundly in their beds.

Marth watched the second man leave the room, though for some reason, the man holding him did not follow.

A soft sound reached Marth's ears. He strain his hearing as best as he could, trying to identify the sound.

Whimpers?

The man reappeared, but this time he was carrying something…more precisely, Marth realized when the man stepped back into the room, someone.

Cradled in his arm like a baby was Norne.

Although Marth could not see Norne's face, due to the pillow case that encased the young girl's head, she was still wearing that red and white dress she had been wearing since this morning. Her arms were pinned together into a single useless unit behind her back and her legs were hugged together by constricted, almost cruelly tight, rope. Marth was sure that underneath that pillow case, Norne was also gagged, but maybe not as securely as he was if he could hear her subdued but fearful and pained whimpers from underneath that pillowcase.

Despite his bounds and his own fears, Marth began to struggle, his terror turning into hot flames of anger when he saw that they brought an innocent girl into this. If he was their target, there was no need to bring anyone else into this, especially not a poor defenseless girl.

His struggles ceased immediately when he felt the cold metal of the sharp edge of another knife press against his throat. He felt the breath of his capturer fan against his ear as he spoke softly almost mockingly sweet, "Now, now. Don't you worry your head, your majesty. We promised we wouldn't harm the girl if she helped us out. And she did a marvelous job of poisoning our "fellow" knights and your protectors' drinks with a sleeping potion. Now no one will be able to disturb us when we leave. As a reward, she gets to be your body double, just in case someone does wake up early and checks this room."

The man holding Norne walked over to the bed Marth had not ten minutes ago been sleeping peacefully on, and then malevolently dropped her onto the mattress. Norne let out a muffled squawk of fright when she was dropped. But she went back to whimpering pitifully when she landed safely on the straw mattress. Marth did his best to growl at the man for scaring Norne, but the sponge in his mouth muffled it down to a pathetic little sound.

The man just smiled carelessly, and waved a hand dismissingly at the helplessly bound prince. He covered Norne with the blankets, muting her whimpers and hiding all her from view, but showing a lump in the middle of the bed. Now anyone who peeked into the room would think that the lump was Marth sleeping under those blankets.

"Time to go now, your highness," Marth's capturer sneered, carrying the prince out of the room, keeping the knife to his throat. His companion followed after them, closing the door gently behind them.

As soon as she heard the door click closed, Norne stopped her whimpering and began to thrash around against her bounds wildly, trying to break the constricting ropes with her strength alone. She could not let those bad men escape with the prince. She just had to get free. She had to!

* * *

A/N: Well... was it worth the wait?


	8. Pondering Midnight Walk

A/N: I just know any Marth/OC fans reading this are going to hate this chapter.

* * *

**Chapter** **Seven: Pondering Midnight Walk**

As she walked through the quiet and deserted streets of the village, Iris concentrated on keeping the small flame hovering in the middle of her palm, to stay at just about the size of a candle flame. It wasn't often that she would be strolling around the village this late at night, but her mind was too jittery to sleep.

So much had happened during the daylight hours of the day; her grandfather's lecture on controlling fire with willpower, the unforeseen news of Prince Marth's visit, Norne giving her a "makeover" that she did not want, meeting her grandfather's old army friends, escorting the said friends AND the prince to her home, her grandfather's unusual attitude, and then came the astonishing moment the prince said that she could use his name. Then she had taken the prince to her room to play Mahjong and he talked with her. It surprised Iris that the prince treated the situation like they were just two commonplace kids getting to know one another, despite the vastly different social and economic backgrounds between them.

Iris had heard that the prince…Marth…was a kind person. But never in her life did she expect him, or rather any member of the royal family, to be that kind to his country-dwelling subjects. It had thrown Iris's young mind in a loop of incredulity; her thoughts churning around in her head, even after he left the cottage to return to the inn. When he was saying goodbye to her, he said he couldn't wait to meet her again in the morning. Thus why Iris was walking around the village in the middle of the night, trying to answer one question:

What had she done to make such an impression on the prince?

She told him what she was: a mage-in-training with poor magic control, who didn't want to leave the little village she called home. What, in any of that, impressed him so much that he wanted to meet her for a second visit?

Was it the Mahjong game? Did he have a competitive streak?

Iris shook her head at the thought.

No, it wasn't about competition during the three rounds of the game they had played together.

The prince…Marth was just having fun and she could tell that he was enjoying himself, despite the fact that he lost all three rounds. He had smiled and laughed when he realized he made an amateur mistake, but that was to be expected since this way his first time. With time and a few more rounds under his belt, he would conquer the game, Iris was sure of it.

As they played, Marth told her about his life back home at the castle.

He told that most of his days were filled with lessons regarding swordsmanship, battle tactics and campaigns, horseback riding, and the command structure of the Altea army. Because he was not the first-in-line heir to the throne, Marth was being trained to become the leader of Altea's armies. However, he was still being trained in politics and the arts of diplomacy, as well being educated in the history of Altea, as well as the other foreign kingdoms.

Marth explained this was done to allow him to become a good substitute ruler in case something happened to Elice before she got married, or if she and her husband had an accident and their heir was too young to take the throne. Marth did not mention the third possibility, but Iris had seen it in his eyes that it was a thought that constantly invaded his mind: the possibility that he would have to take the throne if his sister had no heirs.

He would gladly lay down his life to protect his sister, he told her. But he had no idea what to do or how to feel at the possibility of having to take the throne himself. Iris had smiled and assured him that he did not have to worry about it now. Then she asked if he had any friends.

Marth smiled and told her a bit of his two best friends: Merric and Princess Shiida.

Merric was the son of an Altean nobleman who had a friendly connection with his father. Merric's mother was part of a long line of mages and she had passed that magic ability to him, although she had no magic herself. But for a long time, no one had known Merric had the ability to wield magic as his anima had only just manifested in the summer of last year.

It had happened when he was out walking with Elice. It had been a rather warm day and Elice told Merric she was hoping that a breeze would soon pick up to cool her down. Merric had closed his eyes and prayed for some wind to come and grant Elice her wish. Not a moment later, a strong breeze blew around the two of them and gathered into Merric's hand, much to his surprise and Elice's amazement.

Soon after, Merric was sent to Khadien to study magic, though he would come back to Altea to visit his parents and his friends whenever he had the chance. Other times he would send Marth and Elice letters, telling them about his studies. Just recently, they learned that he had been accepted as a student of a sage/bishop named Wendell, who was one of Khadien's best teachers according to Merric.

Iris saw Marth's eyes change when he started talking about his other friend, Shiida, the Princess from the island of Talys, the newest kingdom on the continent.

Marth told her that Shiida's father, Mostyn, had been the one to unite the island's multiple tribes just a couple of years before she was born. Hearing how this new king had created his kingdom through the uniting of different people, Marth's father, Cornelius, had instantly respected Mostyn and the two kings agreed to form an alliance. Due to Talys's small size and fledging stage of growth, the new island kingdom had no way to protect itself against other countries. Cornelius agreed to send some of his knights to Talys to train new soldiers and help defend the island until it could make its own proper knight squadrons. When Shiida was born, Mostyn arranged with Cornelius to have his heir go to Altea where she could safely be trained as a knight and learn how to rule a country, along with Cornelius's two children, when she was old enough. Under the Altean King's protection, any enemies of Talys and its King could not reach her.

Iris watched Marth's eyes as he recited the days he spent with Shiida during their shared training and lessons. The young mage-in-training could tell that the prince liked the island princess very much. It would not have surprised Iris the least if he and Shiida ended up marrying each other one day. It would be a brilliant match, Iris thought, and one that would work out just great when the time came.

A breeze of wind blew across the way, making the candle flame-sized spark of fire move and hover wildly about around her palm. Iris raised her other hand to shield it against the wind and concentrated harder to keep the small spark from escaping her hand and blazing out of control. The last thing she wanted was to cause another accident, especially late at night when she supposed to be asleep in her bed, not wandering the village.

_You will not leave my hand,_ Iris thought as she stared glaringly at the misbehaving fire. _You are not going to get any bigger nor are you going out either. You are going to stay the way you are in my hand._

The flame settled down back into its proper place in the center of her palm, hovering safely above her skin.

Iris let out a sigh of relief that the danger of a potential accident had past for the moment and continued on her way through the village.

When she came on the road leading to the _Flying Pegasus_, she saw a curious site. The Royal carriage was out front. Even in the dark, Iris recognized its shape for it was the only carriage currently in the village. As she moved closer, she saw that the two horses were latched to it.

As she stood in front of the royal carriage, new questions surfaced to her mind. What was the carriage doing here at this time of night? Was the prince leaving? Iris was sure he had said that he would like to meet with her again in the morning. And she also knew that Jagen had informed Norne's mother that they would be staying for at least five days. Also, if Marth really was leaving, where were the guards sent to escort him?

One of the horses caught sight of the flame in Iris's hand and made a loud frightened baying noise and stomped a hoof against the ground, catching Iris's attention and causing fear to crawl up in her chest. She found herself praying that everyone in the nearby vicinity was sleeping too deeply in their dream worlds to be awakened instantly by the baying of a horse. However, much to her dismay, Iris realized she could hear the footsteps of heavy boots coming from inside the Inn and heading speedily towards the door.

Cursing softly, Iris made the flame go out with a pop and dived behind some nearby empty barrels and a pile of wheat grain bags that Norne's father kept outside of the building, but close to the door. She curled herself up into a ball, and hoped that whoever was coming to check on the horses would not start inspecting the nearby hiding place for answers to why the horse had been spooked.

She heard the door open, and heard nothing for a few moments, before a voice called out from inside the building.

"What is it? What spooked the horse?" the voice of an unknown male said

"I don't know!" came another unknown male voice, probably from the one who had opened the door, "I can't see anything wrong out here."

The man who spoke first gave a sigh. "Never mind. It was probably nothing. Dumb thing must have gotten bitten by its friend. Now open that door so I can put his majesty down."

Something about the way he said "Put his majesty down" caused Iris's curiosity to spike up and her fear of getting caught to go down. Slowly and all the while listening to the footsteps walk pass her hiding place, she uncurled herself and stood up on her knees, peeking carefully over the barricade of wheat grain bags.

Under the weak light of the waning moon, Iris could see a man dressed up as a knight opening the carriage door. She couldn't be sure, but she believed she recognized the man. She had seen him earlier in the day when Marth had been escorted into the Inn. He had just been right behind the prince, carrying his trunk.

She looked towards the door when she heard more heavy footsteps, but unlike the first set, this one was moving more slowly and carefully. She ducked down a bit when she saw a figure had reached just inside the door way. A second man dressed up as a knight walked slowly backwards out the door, keeping his eyes focused on the carriage that was hi destination. He was carrying something, holding it tightly against his chest.

Iris felt her body tensed and her heart seemed to have leapt into her throat at what she saw the man was holding.

Prince Marth was in the knight's grasp, bound and wrapped in cruel-looking tight ropes which made her wince with sympathy for him, just looking at them. Even the cloth gag he was forced to wear looked too tight to be very comfortable for him. When she saw the glint of a knife at the prince's throat, Iris realized that the two knights she was seeing weren't knights at all, or if they were, they were traitors to the crown.

Iris's eyes caught ahold of Marth's eyes when the young prince's head happened to turn in her direction, the sharp blade creasing the soft skin of his neck. His angry and fear-filled eyes widen in surprise, and Iris was quick to put a finger to her lips before he could make a sound that could potentially give her away. As Marth was slowly carried passed, Iris tried to wordlessly with her eyes that things would be okay to the captive prince.

As she watched the knights place Marth into the dark cavern that was the inside of the carriage, she wondered just what was she supposed to do now to help the prince.

* * *

A/N: As you can see from this chapter that there is not going to be a romance plot between Iris and Marth. It didn't happen in FE12, so it's not going to happen here. This story is about the FRIENDSHIP between Marth and the MU character. Even if Iris does develop any feelings for Marth, they're not going anywhere as we all know Iris's eventual fate that was hinted in the Prolouge.


	9. Determined to Hang On

A/N: Due to some unexpected circumstances that keep popping up today, this chapter is a lot shorter then I wanted it to be. But I hope you enjoy it none-the-less. Be sure to review and tell me what you think.

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**Chapter Eight: Determined to Hang On**

This was a bad idea.

_Scratch that_, Iris corrected herself.

This was an enormously reckless, unwise, and all-around very stupid, bad idea.

Not even the time she thought she could practice her fire magic in the house when she was just starting to learn magic almost ten years ago could compared to this. That time it had been a bad idea, because it had been made by a four-year-old child, who did not know any better. But now she was old enough to know better. The right move would have been to wait for the cost to become clear, and then go inside to the get the adults up and out of their beds, then have them figure out a way to go and rescue Prince Marth.

That was the smart and the most responsible move.

So why was she on the speeding royal carriage, standing on the rear narrow footboard and hanging onto the edge of the carriage's roof by her fingernails?

_Worry about that later!_ She scowled to herself for distracting herself when she could feel one of her hands slipping from the roof's edge, pushed by the strength of the wind the running horses were making as the galloped swiftly out of the village. _Right now. Hold on!_

She dug her nails harder into the roof. Her top and bottom jaws collided together, causing her to nearly bit her tongue, when one of the carriage's wheels ran over a rock, nearly bucking her off her perch.

The thought of letting go was one she could not allow herself to think. If she let go, she would lose the carriage and the prince would be lost along with those villains. Not only that, the ground blurring by from under her did not look too friendly. It was daring her to let go and fall into its unforgivingly hard surface.

No way was she letting go, even if it felt like she would lose her fingernails just to hang on. She would not let go!

* * *

Finally, Norne felt her elbows part just the length of a hair. It was a small movement, but one that filled her up with a flush of fierce joy. It meant that the thin rope of cloth strip pinning her arms together behind her back was finally weakening. She had done a good job at pretending to be just a scared, helpless and harmless young girl when those villains grabbed her when she passed their room to deliver the sherry to the Paladin Knight and the tactician.

While she may have been quite scared and very harmless against those villains, she was by no means helpless when she put her young mind to it. Quick-thinking was essential for those who lived and worked in an inn. Demanding and rowdy and downright cruel guests were part of an innkeeper and her staff's lives. Using their quick brains, they could figure out ways to pacify these guests enough to avoid harm and keep it from befalling themselves, the other guests and the property itself. It was a part of how they survived, and Norne's mother made sure her only child knew how to use her brain in any bad situation she may find herself in.

Admittedly, Norne's mother told her daughter nothing of the possibility of being forced to poison the other guests with tasteless sleeping potions, and being tied up and gagged by cloth strips, then having a pillowcase forced over her head and tied closed by rope around her neck. The only thing which made the near-smothering of the pillowcase even remotely bearable was the fact that she could breathe through the material, and that she still had a bit of movement in her knees, waist and shoulders. Her mother also didn't say anything about being stuffed into a wardrobe for who knows how many hours, then being used as a body double for the villains' intended target when they captured their quarry either.

But now was not the time to be thinking about what her mother did or did not say.

Her focus had to be in breaking out of these bonds. Once she succeeded, she could concentrate on waking up the Paladin Knight and sounding the alarm. Though she had put some of the sleeping potion into his drink, she managed to avoid giving him a full dose by secretly dumping the rest of the potion into the tactician's sherry. Although that meant that the tactician would be out for the rest of the night and probably for most of the next day, the Paladin was not so extensively drugged.

Although it was getting overwhelmingly warm underneath these blankets, Norne redoubled her efforts to break free.

* * *

If were possible to do it safely without the fear of falling off the speeding carriage, Iris would have slapped her forehead in disbelief of her own lack of observation when she realized that, not even a few centimeters away next to her, was the carriage's glassless rearview window. How she managed to avoid seeing it was a question she would think about for another day when she wasn't hanging on for her life.

Digging the nails of one hand deep into the carriage roof to keep from slipping, the young mage slowly released the roof with her other hand. She gasped the bottom of the window and cautiously stiffed her feet across the narrow footboard she was dangerously balancing upon with the toe of her boots.

A sudden, unexpected lurch from the carriage caused one of her feet to slip and her hand grasping the window fell away. For a few terrifying and long moments, Iris was left half hanging off the speeding carriage, her right arm and leg flagging in speed-created wind behind the fleeing vehicle. How she managed to throw her flailing arm back and through the window, Iris would never know, but she was sure she would have been hurled to her death if she hadn't. She felt her hand land on something warm and solid, and without thinking, she grasped it with all the might she had.

Over the roar of the wind, the young mage-in-training barely heard a stifled sound of surprise and pain.

Once she had both her feet back under her, Iris pulled herself up to the window and stuck the rest of her right arm and her head through the window…

And meet the startled blue eyes of the prince.

"Hello, your majesty," Iris found herself saying through her panting of exhaustion, "Kindly do not ask what I'm doing, because I honestly have no idea."

* * *

Norne was growing tired…

Very tired…

The heat caused by her frantic movements was trapped underneath the heavy blankets of the bed on top of her. It seemed that the near smoldering warmth was growing to be almost unbearable, especially around her head due to the pillowcase encasing her head. Her breath was coming out in short rapid pants as she struggled to breathe through the layered materials on top of her face.

But that little separation of the bindings sent hope through the groggy haze her body was settling into and the despair growing in her mind. The trapped young lady gave a vicious, muffled snarl and dug down inside herself for some hidden wellspring of strength that all human beings had somewhere deep inside themselves. She redoubled her efforts, thrashing and pressing hard against her bound arms, wrenching savagely at the stubborn and pitiless cloth cords.

In the end, her will and determination proved to be the stronger one of the two.

With an abrupt lurch, the stubborn cloth had finally given a seemingly loud ripping-like sound of a snap.

Norne pulled her cramped and unpleasantly tingling arms free from her backside, feeling the cloth fall away as it uncurled itself from around her limbs. For a few moments, she lay breathless on the bed, trying to catch was little breath, but she used her newly freed arms to shove the blankets away from her head and upper body, then push herself up into a semi-sitting.

Underneath the pillowcase, Norne didn't try to stop the wetness of tears from the near hysteria she was feeling during the course of this the experience for the last couple of hours, starting when those villains grabbed her earlier in the day. She silently thanked whatever powers that were watching over her during that time for giving her the strength she needed to endure and persevere.

Tired as she was though, now was not the time to rest.

She reached up to grasp the rope looped around her neck to keep the pillowcase from falling off her head and tugged it loose. For whatever reason, those villains did not see it fit to tighten this rope very hard, keeping it at a relatively comfortable pressure around her throat. Norne decided to be thankful for some favors and pulled the pillowcase up and off her head, allowing her to breath in fresh cool air.

She pushed the heavy blankets off her still-bound legs and dug her hands in to tear at the bindings trapping her legs; her last barrier to freedom.

* * *

A/N: And you thought Norne was going to some damsel in distress...nope. Just because she's cheery and wears pink, if she was like that she would have never voluntarily joined Marth's army. Not even her younger self would be in an overwelming panic.

See ya next time!


	10. Gathering the Rescue Party

A/N: With having to add what I could not add to yesterday's post, I can offically say this now the longest chapter.

* * *

**Chapter Nine: Gathering the Rescue Party**

A splash of some warm liquid that smelled like nuts on his face awoke Jagen like someone had slapped him hard across the face. Some of that liquid ended up in his nose and trickle down the back of his throat, making breathing difficult for a few moments until he coughed and sneezed most of it out. A rag appeared from what seemed out of nowhere before his blurry vision-filled eyes. He grabbed it, blowing his nose hard into the cloth to remove the rest of the nut-smelling liquid, though the insides of his nose still felt full.

"I apologize, my lord, but you were not waking up and I needed to get you up now," came a young voice, apologetic in tone but sounding urgent.

Jagen wiped the rag across his face, particularly around his eyes when he felt the liquid start to run down into them, making his already weak eyes sting. Then came the abrupt realization that his temples were throbbing dully, causing him to pause in his wiping in thought. When had he fallen asleep and why did he have a headache?

"My lord," the young voice said, sounding impatient, "You have to get up!"

His temples throbbed painfully at the sound, but the old Paladin moved the cloth rag away from his eyes with a groan. He blinked his weary eyes at the red, white and pink figure above him until the blurriness righted itself into actual shapes, and Jagen was able to identify who was leaning over him: the innkeeper's young daughter.

"Awake now, my lord?" she asked, glaring impatiently down at him, but her whole body seemed to be shaking with urgency.

"Yes," Jagen groaned, taking at hand up and rubbing his temple hard, trying to sooth the pain away. "I'm awake."

"Good."

The pink-haired girl grabbed a hold of his arm and started pulling on him, trying to get him to sit up. It was only then Jagen realized he was laying on his back on the wood floor next to the table he and Malledus had been drinking sherry. His old friend was slumped back in his seat, snoring heavily in deep sleep. His friend's half-full bottle of sherry was clenched weakly in his old hand and threatening to slip out.

Jagen knew it would take more than one bottle of sherry to put him and Malledus out; in fact, one bottle of sherry should not have affected them at all, specifically not to the point of making them drunkenly sleepy.

Something very wrong was going on here and Jagen had a growing suspicion the innkeeper's daughter had the answers.

He yanked his arm out her grasp and placed his hands on the floor beside him and pushed himself up into a semi-sitting position, supported only his hands and the strength of his arms.

"Miss…" Jagen started, keeping his voice tone low to keep his swimming head from getting any dizzier, "What is going on here?"

The young girl sat back onto her haunches. "My lord, our prince has been kidnapped!"

"What?"

All pain and discomfort from his headache seemed to be blow away by the news of his prince and charge.

"Two of your knights kidnapped him from his room some time ago," the girl explained quickly, "They forced me to drug your sherry and the rest of the knights to keep you from stopping them. Then they tied me up and put me in his place so you would not think anything was wrong right away. I only freed myself a few minutes ago and came to get you, since I managed to only give you a lesser amount of the potion. I think they left by his majesty's carriage since I heard a horse just outside."

Jagen struggled to his feet, fighting his lightheadedness as he stood up to give the girl and order, "Girl! Sound the alarm! We need every available body we have to mount a rescue now! Hurry! Go! Go!'

Norne nodded and ran out the room. She raced down the hall, ignoring her twanging legs at the stiffness that had settled into them for being tied up so tightly for hours on end. Despite her hurting legs and twitching feet, Norne did not slow down, even as she nearly tripped and fell down the stairs.

"Alarm! Alarm!" she shouted, waking up any of the inn staff that was sleeping in the building, "The prince has been captured! Alarm! Alarm!"

When she reached the bottom of the steps, she zoomed passed the opening door to the room where the staff slept, ignoring somebody, from the sound of it her mother, say, "Norne? What—"

Norne dodged any furniture in her way as she sprinted to the door that was left opened when the kidnappers escaped with the prince, all the while shouting as loud as she could, "Alarm! Alarm! The prince has been captured! Alarm! Alarm!"

Her feet pounded against the dirt road as she ran towards one of the village's warning bells. These bells were made by Iris's father when he first returned to Sera Village with Iris's mother all those years ago. Knowing how vulnerable his home village was against bandit attacks and raids, Iris's father had made and set up these bells to warn the village when bandits were coming or attacking. Over time, the bells had also been used to warn the village of other dangers that occurred from either the outside or the inside. When the bells were rung, people would gather to see what was wrong and then help out anyway they could.

As she jumped and grabbed ahold of the bell cord, Norne thanked her best friend's departed father for his insight and wisdom. Using all her weight, Norne pulled the cord down and the bell let out a piercingly loud ring that cut through the peaceful silence that settled around the village like a knife. Norne jumped up and pulled the cord down again, sending another ring from the bell. As she continued jumping and pulling, Norne did not stop shouting,

"Alarm! Alarm! The prince has been captured! Alarm! Alarm!"

* * *

Getting the rest of her body through the window was not an easy task as Iris would have hoped and, frankly, wanted. The window was small and narrow, only a little bigger around Iris's head. Because of this, both her arm and her head had filled the window's opening, leaving less than an inch of moving room to maneuver in. Thankfully, Iris's small figure was willowy due to the harsh window that caused her to lose her leftover weight of baby fat. It would be a tight fit, but it was possible for her to squeeze through.

Another problem was the fact that there were no solid handholds in reach for her to grab onto that weren't going to cause her arms to get in her way. Iris sighed, was about to give up and grab ahold of the handhold that she hoped would give her the least amount of trouble, when Marth suddenly slumped over onto his side, and pushed himself to lay across the full length seat. He turned his head to look up at her, despite his restricted movements, the prince managed to roll the shoulder of his free side in offering.

Marth wanted her to use him as her handhold.

Despite herself, Iris found herself smiling.

Even though he was purposely bound and gagged almost into helplessness, the prince was still going to do his best to help her out. The mage-in-training felt admiration seep into her for the young prince as she grasped a strong hold on the prince's arm, just below the ropes that bounded his biceps almost together, with her free hand. Then she leaned back to allow her head to slip out of the window to make room for when she stuck her other arm through.

Tightening her hold on the prince's arm to the point where it had to be painful for Marth, Iris slowly let go of the carriage roof. Her hand was cramping badly from the deadly grip she had on the roof, nearly causing it to go numb as her knuckles went bone white. For a few seconds, she was sure that she would not be able to move her hand into letting go. Her shoulder ache dully from when she suddenly put almost all her on it during that scary moment where she nearly slipped off. The throbbing ache had crawled up her arm causing more painful muscle cramps and spasms.

Once she was successfully able to completely let go, she let her arm dropped and flap limply in the wind for a few seconds, letting the blood flow back into the hurting limb and allowing the muscles to unwind from the tension. But once she was able to feel her hand normally again, she stuck her free arm into the window.

She fumbled her hand around blindly for a moment before grasping a handhold that was Marth's shoulder.

Taking a deep breath, Iris braced her hands and pulled herself up and off her lone foothold.

* * *

Once he steadily had his feet under him, had successfully gotten his armor on and grabbed a hold of his lance and shield, Jagen went outside, ignoring the sleeping Malledus and the rooms that were full of his slumbering subordinate knights. From what the innkeeper's daughter told him, they were all poisoned by a powerful sleeping potion. Even with the shrill ringing of the alarm bell outside had not woken them up. It was only by the quick-thinking of the innkeeper's daughter that he was not among them, although he had to be awakened by the splashing of sherry on his face and up his nose.

The old Paladin Knight could and would forgive and not hold it against the young pink-haired girl, for she was only doing what she had to do.

Outside, Jagen saw that all the village's men, some of the women and most of the young that seemed to be in their mid to late teens, were gathered around in front of the _Flying Pegasus_. Most of them were in their sleepwear, but they were all carrying torches and weapons that were mainly pitchforks, farming tools and kitchen knives, but Jagen saw that some had a few handmade lances, axes and hunting bows.

Standing on an overturned box-like crate, dressed in her sleeping gown, yet hovering over the crowd like a general commanding their army, was the innkeeper. She had just finished explaining the situation to the crowd and begun directing them into small groups and sending away in different directions outside the village, warning them all to be careful for they did not know what they were up against.

Jagen nodded and gave a smile of approval at the sight. It seemed that the village was well-organized in cases of emergency. But being so far out in the country, they probably had to be since they had no official protection to guard them, despite the fact that the village was considered important to the trading route of the kingdom. Jagen would make that once the prince was safe and back home at the castle, he would personally ask the King to ratify some better protection for the village.

He turned around to head to the corral where his horse was being kept during their stay. But much to his surprise, he saw the innkeeper's husband and daughter lead his stallion up towards him. His noble white steed was already saddled and bridled, ready to go at a moment's haste.

"Your horse, my lord," the innkeeper's husband said.

He held out the reigns for Jagen to take while his daughter held out her hands to take Jagen's lance and shield. Knowing that taking both the heavy lance and shield could overwhelm her, Jagen handed the pink-haired girl just the lance and gave the shield to her father to hold. He took the reins from the father's hand and climbed aboard his horse. He reached for the lance, and the father slipped the shield onto Jagen's other arm.

Once he had both his weapons, he straightened up and said, "I must see to Zini. With the rest of prince's guard out of commission, he's the only one in the village with the power and skill to protect him."

The innkeeper's husband nodded in understanding and pulled his daughter to the side to allow Jagen room to gallop away. Jagen kicked his horse's side and he was off, heading towards the cottage on the edge of the village.

* * *

By the time he reached the cottage, much to his astonishment, Zini, dressed in his old mage robes and carrying familiar tome under his arm, was awaiting him. Flanking his sides were his two grandsons, both of them dressed in their hunting gear with bows and a quiver full of arrows on their backs. Also, Ayden was holding the reins of a black mare standing next to him.

"When we heard the sound of the warning bell, I had a feeling you would come, Jagen," Zini said to his old friend.

"Zini, the prince has been kidnapped," Jagen decided to get right to the point, "Two knights under my command have betrayed us. Malledus and the rest of my men are incapacitated by the use of a sleeping potion. I am here because I need help finding and protecting him."

"My grandsons and I will go with you," Zini said

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Zini growled, his eyes narrowing, "We're not coming along because of the prince, although my grandsons and I have no ill will towards him. We are going for another reason."

Jagen raised an eyebrow, "If not for the prince, then what other reason do you have for helping me?"

Zini stared seriously into Jagen's eyes. "My granddaughter, Iris, is missing."

Jagen's eyes widen in concern, "You think she was kidnapped along with the prince?"

Zini shook his head.

"Although that may be a possibility, I highly doubt she was captured. I think she may be trying to rescue the prince herself."

* * *

It took all the arm strength she had, but Iris managed to pull her head, shoulders, chest, and half of her abdomen up and through the narrow window. She was exceedingly glad that her chest was underdeveloped at the moment; otherwise, she would have had a lot of trouble sliding in.

Even the window still was digging sharply into her stomach, Iris paused to catch her breath and give her arms a moment to rest to avoid more cramping. She allowed her upper body to drop limp, her head coming to fall upside-down beside the prince's laid out body, her face half-buried in his warm and soft sleep shirt clad stomach.

Through his sponge and cloth gag, Marth let out a humming-like noise of concern and gave the mage-in-training a feeble nudge of his abdomen. Despite her awkward and rather uncomfortable position, and the fact that she was still in danger of sliding out due to the bumps the carriage was making, Iris patted his arm, soothingly.

"It's alright, your high…er, Marth. I'm only catching my breath. That was a lot harder than it looked."

Marth hummed in acknowledgement and understanding. He had felt and seen how hard her hands quivered as the strained in the hold she had on his arm. While he was sure to have bruises now under his sleeve, the prince knew she had no choice but to hold on tightly. The carriage was still moving in rapid and bumpy pace that threatened to topple her out through the window she was trying to pull herself through. Without a good grip, she would have been thrown off and he would be facing this event on his own.

And right now, he really did not want to be alone with those two kidnappers.

Gathering what strength she had left, Iris let go of Marth and grasped the seat's edge and raised herself up as best she could. With sweat beginning to pour down her face, she used the muscles of her abdomen to pull her legs up, trying to pull the rest of her body through the narrow opening.

Her stomach managed to make it through alright, but when she tried to pull her hips through, they struck the sides of the window and would not allow her to move any further.

Iris sighed and gave a growl of annoyance as she fell limp again to allow herself to think.

She was going to have to turn to the side in order to make her hips fit through the opening. But considering her current awkward position, that maneuverability would require all her concentration to keep her balance and what flexibility to her small willowy body had. It would not be easy, especially since she was growing tired, but it had to be done.

"Okay," she said positioning her arms, "Here we go."

She lifted herself up and twisted her upper body as best and as far as she could as she tried to turn. She felt one of her hips slide against the window's bottom shaft as her legs began to move in the direction she was twisting. She could slowly feel her hips moving through the narrow opening. Marth gave her a hum in encouragement as she tugged her hips using the muscles of her abdomen again.

He could see that it was painfully slow, frustrating and exhausting for Iris as she tried to do three things at once. One of was to keep her balance steady on her hands as they were the only things keeping her upright, next was fighting the fatigue he saw building up in her face as she panted, then lastly was the need to go slowly. If she moved too fast she could either get stuck in the narrow window, or lose her balance and get hurt.

Just as her hips finally made it through the opening, the carriage gave another sudden and expected lurch as the wheel ran over yet another rock. The swaggering of the vehicle proved to be too much for Iris's delicate balance and sweaty grip. Her hands slipped off the edge of the seat and Iris found herself tumbling downward with no way to stop. She did not have time to scream or let out any other kind of noise as it happened way to fast.

The side of her head struck the floor, and the last thing she heard was Marth's muffled cry of her name before the whole world went black.

* * *

A/N: If you like what's going on, please **review!**


	11. Break Your Surly Bonds

**Chapter Ten: Break Your Surly Bonds**

Iris was not exactly sure what she was experiencing when she regained consciousness.

Her entire field of vision was filled with a thousand little bright white lights shaped like small grains of rice. The white lights reminded her of the stars she could see clearly during a cloudless and moonless night. She could not tell if the low whistle-like ring filling her ears was coming from outside or inside her head. Something warm and smelled like copper trickled down across her cheek and onto her jaw, where it gathered to drip large droplets onto the moving ground she was lying on. A painful throb pulsed on the left side of her head, just above her ear and on the edge of her scalp. The throb died down slowly after a few seconds, but the pain was enough to cause her to moan weakly before she realized what she was doing.

"Ermpth?"

What was that?

"Ermpth!"

There it was again. Where was it coming from? She could not tell. She couldn't see anything through the stars filling her eyesight.

"Ermpth! Wunh unph!"

Was someone speaking to her? She could not tell, but the sounds increased slightly in volume…tone… pleading?

"Ermpth! Plmf gmmpth unph!"

Ermpth…

What was "ermpth"? She heard that…word, she supposed, for the fourth time. "Ermpth" had to be important for the voice to have said it so many times. Was it a greeting?

"Wunh unph! Plmf! Onrr paf omfth!"

Her head throbbed with another pulse, drawing out another, somewhat longer moan from her dry lips.

Why did it feel like her legs were higher than her head?

Suddenly, without her permission, they moved. Something soft had struck the back of her knees, causing her mind to become aware that she was lying down awkwardly. Her hips were titled up in an angle, and her legs were resting on something warm and soft, but sturdy, that was stirring. The sound of something solid hitting wood repeatedly cut through the whistle-like ring as clearly as the voice had, and was continually doing.

"Ermpth! Ermpth!"

There was that word again. What did it mean?

Better yet, what was her age? Where was she born? What was her favorite food? Favorite color? Animal? What was her name?

Her age: Eleven.

Birthplace: Sera Village.

Food: Apples.

Color: Blue.

Animal: Cat.

Name:

What was her name?

"Ermpth!"

"Ermpth"? Was her name Ermpth?

…no.

"Ermpth!"

Ermpth…? Ermpth…? Ermpth…?

"Wunh UNPH!"

Ermpth…Ermpth…Iris…

Now where did that word come from?

Iris…

Iris…

Iris?

Ermph?

"ERMPTH!"

Ermph…Iris…

"Ermph" meant Iris.

Her name was Iris!

As if her name was a key to door, her memory returned and the situation along with it.

Her eyes shot open.

* * *

When he saw Iris lose both her balance and her grip when the carriage bucked, Marth felt his stomach clench in fear and concern for her. He could only watch as her head, shoulders, arms and upper body slide/fall down onto the floor of the carriage. The side of her head hit the floor with a loud bump. Her legs and feet rapidly slide through the window opening and landed onto the prince's body, limply but still hard enough to cause the prince to moan at the sudden pressure on his hurting limbs.

With his arms and legs trussed up as they were, he could not move to catch her; nor could he even attempt to stop or slow her fall. The ropes once again made him both helpless and useless. The only thing he could do was become her handhold when she first pulled herself up and through the only opening to the carriage she could reach without alerting his abductors of her presence. But even that had been of little use. As soon as she was able to, she reached for another handhold without the fear of anything getting in her way.

Marth clenched his eyes shut and he made his head fall forward, burying his face into the soft cushions of the bench-like seat, bitter tears of frustration and rage burning behind his eyelids.

He was so weak!

He was supposed to be a protector! Wasn't that what he was trained nearly all his life to be? Where was all his training during all this since the moment he woke up staring right into the blade of a knife?

What had he done when he saw poor, frighten-to-near-death Norne? Nothing! Just as he began to struggle, he went limp in alarm when he felt that knife against his throat. He couldn't help her…couldn't even comfort her…

Now Iris had gotten hurt, maybe seriously so, in trying to rescue him, and he couldn't help her either! He just laid there!

Why were his friends the ones who suffered? He should be the one suffering!

Behind his cloth and sponge gag, he growled, low and dangerous in the back of his throat. His legs tensed and, in his fury, he shoved the sharp protestations of cramp muscles aside. He sent a sharp kick to the side of the carriage in rage. He didn't care that his sock covered feet protested or that the rope that bound his ankles to his biceps tensed up sharply, and pulled his shoulders back, making his back bend into a painful arch.

He didn't care. His pain was nothing compared to theirs.

A low moan came from the floor.

The sound cut through his rage and self-loathing, causing him to pause in sending another kick to the carriage's wall under his feet. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, looking down at his friend lying on the floor. Her head rolled limply to one side, revealing a small but bleeding bruised lump. He couldn't be sure it was a trick of the light due to the dimness of the inside of the carriage, but he was sure he saw the lump throb.

But Iris had made a sound, signaling that she was coming back to awareness. Did that mean she had only been unconscious for a few seconds, or did the sound of his kick hitting the wall bring her back to consciousness?

Despite the fact that his gag had effectively taken away his ability to speak, Marth tried to say her name. But it came out sounding like "Ermph?"

A barely noticeable twitch in her eyebrow.

"Ermph!"

He could hear a breath of air blow out past her lips.

She had to get up! Every moment they wasted here was a moment they were getting farther and farther away from the village, and closer to whatever destination these kidnappers were taking them.

"Ermpth! Plmf gmmpth unph!" he shouted and pleaded as best he could through his almost smother-some gag, trying to encourage her to move or at least open her eyes. "Wunh unph! Plmf! Onrr paf omfth!"

Another moan, this one louder.

Okay, he thought, just using his nearly inaudible voice was not enough to bring her back to full consciousness. She needed motion. The rocking of the carriage wasn't helping because it was no longer bouncing over rocks and rough road. Instead it was rocking rather pleasantly, almost like a swing. It was this kind of rocking Marth knew that had the ability to soothe him to sleep when he was exhausted.

It also meant that the carriage was disengaging its speed.

Wherever they were now, they were definitely getting closer to the dreaded destination. Time was running out!

Marth looked down his body where Iris's legs had fallen onto him. Even when he sent that wild rage-filled kick at the wall, they had not fallen off him. The angles they were both in had hooked her legs well onto him. They couldn't be pushed off by his meager wiggling.

Not only that, if hitting the wall with his feet had startled her awake in the first place, he could continue to do so.

Maybe he was not so useless after all.

He took in as much breath as he could through his nose and sent his feet flying at the wall.

* * *

Despite the roaring of the wind in his ears, Shane smiled to himself when he heard loud and continuous thumps coming from inside the carriage. It would seem the little prince had finally lost it, and was now struggling to try and free himself from those bindings he and his partner, Joel, had bounded him up with.

But the two bounty hunters knew that he would not get out. They made sure to make that it would impossible for him to break free without any help. The little prince was trapped and safely secured only a few feet away from him and his partner.

Even if the little prince did somehow managed to break himself out of the bindings, where would he go?

By now that disgusting little trading village was miles away behind them. And any other settlement was far beyond his reach. He would fundamentally be trapped in the middle of nowhere.

They had planned this done pacifically:

Infiltrate one of the Altean Knight squadrons under the Legendary Paladin Knight Jagen's command, and get close to him. Getting close to the Paladin meant getting close to the Royal Family. Once they were close enough they would wait for the opportunity to snatch away one or both of Altea's royal heirs, right out from under the Paladin and the King's noses.

They were hoping to get an opportunity to snatch away the princess, but instead they got her little brother. It was not a big loss, however, as both targets were worth the same amount of money. But still, it would have been nice to get double the money had they caught both the prince and the princess.

But in this line of work, sometimes the good hunter had to take what he could get. No matter how disappointing it was not to capture both targets.

Shane felt his smile widen when he heard the poundings cease.

The little prince was giving up.

That was good. That meant he would not give them any trouble when they met up with their employer.

The bounty the prince had on him would feed him and Joel well for about a year.

* * *

Iris groaned as she fought the dizziness of her head. She did her best to sit up with her legs still bent upwards and over Marth. Her vision swam and those annoying little lights tried to flood her eyesight again. But she would not allow it.

She shook her head, feeling that bump throb in protest. She groaned, but focused on getting her legs off Marth.

She wrapped her arms around both of her thighs and pulled them to her chest. Scooting the best she could on her bottom, she raised her legs up a bit and moved them over the prince, trying to avoid hitting him in the face with her boots. It was awkward and not comfortable for the both of them with Iris's boot dragging across him, but somehow they managed.

Still fighting her throbbing head, Iris carefully raised herself up onto her feet and leaned down over Marth, helping him to sit back up in a somewhat comfortable sitting position on the cushioned bench seat. Now that he could see her blue sparkling eyes, Marth saw the grim concern twinkling in those depts.

Iris gave Marth a small, comforting smile. "You okay?" she asked softly, giving his shoulder a warm, gentle, worried squeeze.

"Uhm-hmmh…" he nodded, trying to reassure her in return "Mmph?"

"I'll be fine," she said keeping her voice down to a whisper, "I may be seeing stars for a while, but I'm okay. Right now, let's work on getting you loose."

Marth nodded his agreement and turned his head around as best as he could to allow Iris to reach the knot of the gag. Iris started working on the gag, for which Marth was grateful. His jaw was hurting from being forced to keep it open wide for so long. He felt her small but determined, nimble fingers move beneath the fall of his hair for the cruelly-tight knot and beginning to work at it.

All the while, Marth could feel himself somewhat smiling in relieved happiness, despite the discomfort the sponge forced his jaws open, made smiling difficult. But that relief was deeply under-tinged with restless apprehension. His ears, like Iris's, kept straining to hear any noises or sounds other than the thundering of the horses' hooves against the ground. Even though the carriage was still in motion, the both of them were more than half-expecting the abductors would eventually discover them both at any moment, and turn their shared joy into two streaks of terror.

When Iris managed to pull the cloth gag's knot loose and undone, she quickly unwrap the strip from around Marth's lips. She stuck her thumb and forefinger into his dry mouth to grab ahold of the sponge and gently removed it. Marth let out a relieved sigh as he could finally breathe comfortably and properly through his mouth, drawing in deep, even breaths. He worked his jaw around and tried to get some moisture back into his mouth, which had been sucked almost dry during most of this unpleasant journey by that annoying sponge.

Iris reached down to slide her hand into her boot. Somehow, during all this, she had forgotten she had stashed a small dagger into her long work boot. She only just remembered it when she tugged on the rope connecting Marth's legs and biceps painfully.

When Iris went out for a nightly stroll, she never left the cottage without some sort of weapon. In the darkness of night, one would never know where danger could lurk, even inside the safety of village.

Grabbing ahold of the dagger's handle, Iris slowly pulled the weapon out of her boot and held it up for Marth to see.

Marth watched her grab a fistful of the rope connecting his arms and legs. She made a loop and slipped the dagger's blade into it. She then started to saw through the tough rope fibers.

She had to work fast.

She could feel that the carriage was slowing down.

* * *

A/N: So the confident kidnappers now have names of their own. I wonder who their mysterious employer is.


	12. A Twist in the Plan

A/N: Well, someone asked me why do I call one of my bounty hunters, Shane. Truthfully, it was not my idea. The idea of Shane and Joel came from one of my brothers playing the Bounty Hunter at SWOTOR. And yes, my brother's bountry hunter is called Shane, but that's not my brother's name. Comprende? Okay. Let's get back to the story.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven: A Twist in the Plan**

Zini's group drove their horses out of the village for about a mile, traveling down a road leading out towards the borders of the country. Eventually, Zini told them to stop so he could check the road for any signs of the kidnappers' trail.

They were in luck as they found some rather freshly made tracks.

With a fairly large fireball hovering in his hand to allow him and his companions the light they needed to see, Zini knelt down to study the tracks closely, running a finger over some of them. Behind him, still mounted on the horses, Jagen and his grandsons watched quietly. Ayden and Tori were both seated on the black mare, Ebony Star, with Tori at the reins. The young boy petted the mare's hair soothingly, keeping the young horse calm. The mare seemed to have an uncanny habit of picking up any uneasiness from her riders.

Right now, both brothers were feeling a combination of apprehension and brotherly worry for their little sister. Iris was nowhere near headstrong, but she had a tendency of doing things without thinking about the consequences to herself when someone she cared about was in danger.

Like when she and Norne got lost during their first hunting trip in one of the nearby forests. It was the beginning of winter with the snow starting to powder the ground and the winds brought a biting bitter cold. The two girls were trapped in the forest for two whole days and Norne was quickly succumbing to the cold, even with the little fire Iris managed to make with her magic. Iris had given Norne her jacket to keep the freezing girl warm. Although her action saved Norne from the freezing cold, in consequence, Iris caught the chills just before the adults found them and was ill for almost four days.

Now their sister was alone against two armed and highly skilled men, who successfully captured Prince Marth and incapacitated just about all his knight protectors. Even with her magic, Iris would have almost no chance against these men due to her lack of control over her anima. She would just end up hurting herself.

The best case scenario would be Iris end up taken hostage and held captive along with the prince. The worst…

Ayden and Tori did not want to think about the worst case scenario.

"They've definitely came through this road," Zini reported as he stood up, "The horse tracks indicate that they were going at a high speed even with carriage pulled behind them. But the weight of the carriage should have slowed the horses down. They won't be able to maintain that speed for a long time."

"Where does this road lead to?" Jagen asked

"Technically? Nowhere," Ayden answered

"But this road does lead a forest where a branching off section is," Tori explained, "One road will lead us to another trading village, the other leads to the ocean channel separating Altea from Khadein."

"Both locations seem to be pretty likely places for the kidnappers to go," Zini said, putting out the fireball. "If we're dealing with foreign spies, they'll be wanting out of this country as quickly as possible with their captive. But if they're not, then they may be wanting us to think that they are. In that case, they'll be wanting us to head to the channel while they head to the village."

Jagen nodded his agreement at the old mage's logic. "If we reach the branch without catching up to them, we'll need to split up."

"My brother and I will take the village," Ayden said, "I know the villagers there fairly well and I know they'll help us out."

Jagen nodded again. "Meanwhile, Zini and I will head towards the channel."

As soon as Zini climbed up back onto Jagen's horse, they urged their horses into a run, trying to catch up with their targets as fast as they could.

* * *

Joel pulled the horses' reigns back, signaling for them to slow down into a halt.

The two bounty hunters made it to the rendezvous point where their employer said he would meet them.

But the forestry glade looked like it was deserted with no recent sign of travelers.

Joel looked over at his partner, "What do we do now?"

Shane frowned and leaned back, placing his hands behind his head comfortably, "We wait. He said he'd meet us here."

"And you believe him?" Joel frowned

"Dejanira cannot afford to lose this one," Shane said calmly, "The little prince is far too valuable to be thrown aside. Why else would he be paying us each ten thousand gold pieces for him?"

Joel's frowned deepened. "What I would like to know is how a Paladin like him got so much money. Ten thousand gold pieces each for the both of us? That's a King's ransom."

Shane took hand out from behind his head to wave dismissingly at his partner. "Don't know. Don't care. Once we have our gold, we can comfortably retire from bounty hunting for a while."

Although Joel nodded his agreement, he did not stop frowning as he leaned forward to place his elbows against his knees.

Shane looked at his partner from the corner of his eye and sighed. "Look…just let me do all the talking, all right. Once we get our money, we're heading for Grust."

* * *

Iris had just managed to cut through the rope connecting Marth's legs to his biceps, and was just starting to work on when the rope binding his feet together, when the carriage came to a halt.

Both the prince's and the mage-in-training's stomachs clenched in fear that in a few seconds, the kidnappers would come and check on Marth and find Iris. They could hear their voices, although it faint as it was going through the wood of the carriage. But thankfully, it seemed like they were not going to leave the carriage box seat anytime soon. Good, they still had some time although it was a small amount.

Iris went back to sawing at Marth's bindings, they both silently agreed not to make any sudden noises that could alert them. But as she continued to work, she couldn't stop her mind from pondering over what she had overheard.

This man, Dejanira, was the one who wanted Marth kidnapped. And he was paying the men twenty thousand gold pieces for his successful capture. Where did a Paladin, as she had heard one of the men call him, get that kind of money? Not even Jagen had that kind of money, even with his close position with the King and the Royal Family.

King's ransom indeed!

The rope binding Marth's ankles fell away. Marth rolled them around, hearing and feeling the cracks as the muscles were finally able to relax now that their movability was returned. At least now, he had the usage of his legs and feet if worst came to worst. Even if it was not enough to stop the men from recapturing him, his returned freedom would not make it easy for them.

Iris had just made it halfway cutting through the rope bound around Marth's wrists when they heard a set of horse hooves outside, coming their way.

Iris sawed the ropes harder.

* * *

Shane and Joel sat up when they saw a lone horse and his rider coming down the road leading to the channel. The rider sat straight and tall upon his mighty steed, making his tall frame seem even taller than he actually was. The rider's high collared long cloak-like cape blended well into the darkness of the forest trees.

Dejanira had arrived.

The dark Paladin stopped his horse just before the carriage's two horses and he looked towards the two bounty hunters sitting calmly in the carriage box.

"You have your bounty?" he asked, voice dangerously gruff and booming.

Shane nodded and patted the carriage's roof. "Safe and sound and ready for your shipment, my liege. We've made sure he would not give you any trouble."

"He?" Dejanira's voice dropped dangerously, "You've failed to capture both of them?"

"I sincerely apologize, my liege," Shane said, bowing his head in apology, "I fear that Princess Elice was beyond our reach when we infiltrated the Royal Guard all those months ago. But we have been close enough to watch the prince's father and hear some of his plans. I hope this information we picked up will be enough to apologize for our failure to capture the princess."

"Tell me this information," Dejanira ordered,

"My liege, it would seem that the Altean King has been growing suspicious of the activities down in the south," Shane reported, keeping his head down, "He is secretly preparing his army for possible warfare. But he does not seem to know what or who exactly he's dealing with. I suspect he plans to send spies to the south, my liege."

Dejanira have a small hum. "I see."

Shane peeked up through his bangs, his brow starting to sweat in anticipation during the long moment of silence between the Paladin and the bounty hunters.

"Very well then," Dejanira said, "In reward for giving me this information, both your pay will be raised to twelve thousand gold pieces."

Shane smiled, "Thank you, my liege."

"But first…show me the prince."

"Of course," Shane nodded and turned to his partner, "Joel, be a good lad and retrieve our employer his trophy."

Joel grumbled, but he nevertheless hopped down off the carriage box seat. He walked to the carriage door and grabbed the handle.

"Okay your highness, time to—"

Just as he started to pull the door open, he was cut off when the door was suddenly kicked open from the inside. The door collided hard with the side of Joel's face, sending the bounty hunter's head jerking to the side and causing him to falter.

Disoriented, the bounty hunter managed to turn his head back to look inside the carriage.

All he saw was a pair of furiously sparkling blue eyes before a large and thick knot tied at the end of a piece of rope hit him squarely in the eyes, knocking him further off balance and disorienting him.

* * *

A/N: Next Chapter: Fight! Let's hope I do a good job there.

Also, in case anyone does not know, Dejanira is an actual character in Fire Emblem. He appears in Chapter 12x of Shadow Dragon. He's the reason Horace was branded a traitor.


	13. Earned Loyalty at the Begining

A/N: I really hope I did a decent enough job here.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve: Earned Loyalty at the Begining**

With a final snap of the rope slipping, Iris managed to free Marth's hands, but his arms were still pinned behind his back by the rope around his biceps. From what she could hear outside, there was no time left to saw the last blinding off or try to get the knot undone. Iris didn't try to stop herself from letting out a little growl of frustration.

But that's when she saw it.

The last binding had only a single thick knot.

That meant that, unlike his wrist and ankle bindings, the arm binding was not as secure as it appeared. It would only take one single cut to make the whole binding unravel. It seemed the arm binding was put on to cause pain and discomfort, to discourage any struggles its prisoner would put up, rather than be an actual trapping like the other bindings. With the added rope connection to the feet, the discomfort would turn into pain whenever Marth tried to kick his legs.

Iris felt her heart thump heavily and her eyes widen at the wondering thought of how much pain Marth put himself through when he was slamming his feet against the carriage wall. That kicking must have not only hurt his shoeless feet, but also put a lot of strain on his shoulders and his back while he was trying to wake her up from her knock out. He put himself through all agony that just to help her.

She knew the prince was a kind and compassionate person, but she never thought that he was also nobly unselfish. Nor had she thought that he would willing to put himself through great pain just to help someone he just met and barely knew without a second thought.

And she had done nothing to deserve that.

But he gave it anyway.

That was inexplicable but so very noble.

If the day was ever allowed to come, she realized, Marth would make an excellent king when or if that day came.

Iris's free hand clenched into a fist and her eyes narrowed as she felt a new feeling stir within her, allowing her to forget the throbbing bleeding bump on her head…

The burning fire of raw determination.

No matter what, she would get Marth out of this. Even with those armed and no-doubt well trained men just outside, even with her barely controlled magic and zero battle experience, she would get him back to the safety of his guardians.

It was the least she could do for the prince who, at that moment, earned her unwavering loyalty and devotion until the day she died.

The mage-in-training grabbed the knot, and with a single sharp cut of the dagger's blade, cut the part of rope near the knot. Keeping a hold of the knot, Iris pulled the piece of rope off.

* * *

As the rope unraveled around his biceps, Marth let out a quiet sigh of relief as the tension between his shoulder blades was at last allowed to be released as his shoulders relaxed and slumped forward.

He was finally free.

But now they had to deal with his kidnappers and the mysterious third party that had joined them just outside.

As he rolled his shoulders to help loosen them further, Marth thought hard back to his lessons in studying and dealing with enemies.

From what he could tell and had seen, his kidnappers were dressed as knights, but they lacked any spears, shields or other pole-arm weapons. Marth had seen a large one-bladed axe on one of the abductor's backs, meaning that he was one of those axe-wielding clansmen from the outlying kingdoms.

Marth remembered learning that these fighters were strong in their strength. But the downside of their strength was that they were poor in defending themselves. Those heavy axes crippled their ability to move quickly, and the weight also interfered with their accuracy on moving targets. If a target was standing still, then they would have a greater chance at scoring a hit.

So he and Iris would have to keep moving in order to avoid getting hit by that guy. It would also help that he was furthered slowed down by the weight of the heavy knight armor. Speed and movability would be his and Iris's advantage.

However, the other man was probably a sword wielder. Marth very much doubted that he had exceptionally high speed in his legs with all that knight armor on him, so the possibility of him being a myrmidon or a sword master was null. Those speedy masters of the sword would never wear anything that could interfere with their legendary swiftness.

The lack of horses, other than the ones latched to the carriage, eliminated the possibility of him being a cavalier, a paladin, or even a horseman. And Marth highly doubted he was a thief.

That left him with the "mercenary" class; professional warriors that were known to be soldiers-for-hire. They excelled in all their abilities in an all-around sort of fashion, making them rather balanced fighters in their strength, skill, speed, defense and maneuverability. He and Iris were going to have to be careful with that one.

But, like his partner, the mercenary was slowed down by the knight armor. While his defense was raised with the armor, his speed and maneuverability suffered, as well as his strength as he needed most of it to wear the armor in the first place.

Speed and maneuverability was the advantage that he and Iris had over the two men.

However, that still left the unknown third party. Neither of them knew what the third man (they knew it was a male by listening) was. Marth guessed cavalier due to the presence of a horse, but he could not be sure his guess was accurate just because of the appearance of the horse. For all he knew, the third man could be an archer riding on the back of a horse.

And then there was the problem with how ill-equipped he and Iris were. He did not think Iris would want to use her magic due to her lack of strong ability to control it properly. So they could not afford to rely on it, no matter how effective magic would be in their situation. They could not allow getting themselves hurt by an uncooperative fire ball. They had no armor to protect them, just the clothes on their back. Iris was wearing a tunic, pants and boots, while he was in his nightshirt and pants without anything but sleep socks on his feet. And the only weapon they had between them was the dagger Iris had used to free him…and the rope itself.

Marth looked over at Iris and saw that she was busy doing something with the rope knot that bound his arms. Using some of the rope she cut, she added more weight to the knot on the rope's end. Once she was finished, she then tied and twirled the other end around one of her wrists. The prince realized that Iris had effectively made a second weapon, a flexible club of sorts, by using just the rope that had bound him.

The rope club would not do any damage to the knight armor, but it could still hit the open spots on the kidnapper's legs where the armor did not cover. And the dagger's blade was thin enough that could slip in the small space between the armor, as well as hit in the other vulnerable places.

Iris handed him the dagger, and positioned herself in front of the carriage's door, holding the hand with the rope-club up, ready to strike at whoever opened that door. Marth got himself ready to spring at a moment's notice, keeping the dagger's handle held tightly in both of his hands.

No matter how young, ill-equipped and battle skill lacking the two of them were; they would not go down without a fight. Both were prominently glad that they had each other during this, their first fight.

The sound of the door moving seemed unnaturally loud in the inside space of the carriage.

Iris wasted no time and sent a kick at the opening door. The sound of the door swinging loudly on its hinges, and slamming against the kidnapper's head were oddly satisfying sounds to Marth's ears. The prince could not stop a grin appearing on his face when Iris sent the weighted end of her club-like rope weapon at their opponent's face, hitting him squarely in the eyes.

With a loud shout of "Ya!" the prince practically flew towards their opponent—the Axe–wielding Fighter—and skillfully plunge the dagger into the small opening between the armor's shoulder and chest pieces. The blade sank smoothly into the Fighter's skin, easily descending through the shirt, skin and muscle until it hit the bone.

* * *

The prince's momentum had sent him crashing into his opponent, knocking him off his feet. With both the added weight of the prince and the two disorienting blows Iris had landed on him, first with the door then the rope knot. And the sudden pain of the dagger plunging deep into him, Joel had no choice but to fall flat on his back.

Shane jumped to his feet when he saw his partner go down. He stared in disbelief when he saw the little prince sitting on Joel's chest, a dagger in his hands that had plunged the weapon deeply into a small unprotected spot between Joel's armor.

How had the prince gotten free? And where did that weapon come from? The prince was in his sleep ware, there was no way he could have hidden a dagger on himself without them noticing. Even if he somehow did, how did he even get a hold of it and use it to cut the rope away?

Behind him, Dejanira growled low and dangerously.

"You idiotic bounty hunters!" He growled, "You said he was secure! Does that look secure to you?"

"He was!" Shane insisted as the prince pulled the dagger out of Joel to glare defiantly up at him. This was not how it was supposed to go down.

Shane pulled out his iron sword from its scabbard and jumped off the carriage box. He towered over the prince, who just continued to bravely glare defiantly up at him. This was not the scared boy he and Joel had captured from the inn back at that little village. Shane was not looking down at a weakling highborn child, but instead, he was looking down at a boy with the makings of a warrior.

The bounty hunter had to admit, the prince had guts despite his obvious disadvantage.

He stepped over to the prince, failing to acknowledge the sound of something whirling in the air until it was too late.

* * *

Iris sent the knotted end of her rope-club at the second kidnapper. The hard heavy weight struck him dead on in the side of the head, almost in the exact same place where the bump on her head was. The throbbing injury was lessoning now, the little bright stars no longer threatening her vision and the dizziness was almost bearable. And the bleeding had stopped long ago, though the drying of the blood on the side of her face was starting to cause an annoying itch.

When the second opponent stumbled back, grasping at the spot Iris hit, March scrambled out of the way to allow her to exit the carriage.

Iris didn't bother to climb out. Instead, she jumped out, her feet landing heavily against the chest armor of the first opponent. She took a small satisfaction at the sound of his pain grunt as the air was knocked out of him, before jumping off and moving to stand at Marth's side.

She took hold of her weapon again, and started to twirl it around in a circle as wide as it could go without the heavy knot hitting herself or the ground or the prince. She silently thanked Tori for teaching her how to fling stones with a sling to scare away any annoying pests out of their soybean field. It was a useful skill to have, but Iris never thought in a million years she would be using her projectile flinging skill in this sort of situation.

But she supposed it did not matter what she thought about the skills she thought she would be using them for. Right now, she needed every possible skill she had to defeat these opponents as they got themselves right on their feet.

The fight was only beginning and who knew what lie in store for her and the prince.

* * *

A/N: I hope I didn't make Marth a little too over OOC during the fight's start, but keep in mind that he is young and it is his first time fighting like this. I thought I should add how Marth earned the MU Character (aka Iris)'s loyalty in this alternate universe, since it is that loyal that mainly defines the MU Character in New Mystery.


	14. Make Ready

A/N: With today being Father's Day where I am, I apologzie for having to post this later then usual and is rather (disappointingly in my opinion) short. Not only that, starting tommarow, my chapter postings may be later then what they've had been during these last two weeks for personal reasons. However, I'm going to keep doing my best to post daily.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen: Make Ready...**

Joel's left arm was almost near complete uselessness with the injury Marth inflicted upon him with that unexpected attack. His eyes and the side of his jaw stung from the pain caused by both the kicked open carriage door, and the hit from that heavy knot of the club-like rope, swinging around in a large circle in Iris's hand. The bruise on Shane's head caused by that same knot pulsed painfully, but not enough to through his balance off dangerously. Both bounty hunters did their best to shake off both the pain and the dizziness inflicted on them by luck and the advantage of surprise.

The two inexperienced warriors had effectively brought their opponents down a few notches, but it was too soon in the fight for them to think that they had an advantage over the more experienced men. It was merely by chance and their opponents' being off-guard that allowed them to score those hits.

Pushing a gloved hand against the bleeding wound just under his collarbone to stem the blood flow, Joel growled furiously, as he looked at the two troublesome children that had managed to take him down with their sneak attack.

"Where the hell did she come from?" he growled at his partner, jerking his head in Iris's direction.

"I don't know," Shane answered, shaking his head to get rid of any flashing lights passing over his eyes, "But I reckon she's the cause of our trouble."

"Iris," Marth whispered, just loud enough for his fighting partner to hear him, keeping his eyes fixed on their opponents, "Their armor gives them the advantage of having a higher defense then us, but that does not mean that they are untouchable. Their armors' main weakness is in the backside. It's less protected then in the front. Also it takes a lot of strength for someone to be able to move in that armor, so they can't waste their energy with strong heavy attacks with their weapons or long periods of time of movement."

"So our best shot is to wear them down," Iris whispered back

Marth gave a small nod in agreement. "Also we have to keep behind them and stay close. My dagger is made for close combat, and the length of your rope suggests it's closer to close-range then mid-range."

"Unfortunately, yes," Iris answered, "If I had better control of my magic, we'd have a long- to mid-range weapon."

"We may end up needing it," Marth warned, "But I suggest avoid using it until you have no other choice."

"I'm already ahead of you on that one," Iris sighed.

The mage-in-traning knew that her magic was the one and only advantage that the two of them had over their opponents. Axe Fighters and Mercenaries had the great disadvantage of having either low or no resistance magical attacks. Even with the added protection of the knight armor, they were still quite vulnerable against magic.

It was a well-known fact that only other mages, other magic users like curates, clerics and bishops, and the strongest of melee warriors had high enough resistance against a strong magic attack from a well-trained mage. It was why mages were considered to be some of the most powerful fighters in the world. But their weaknesses were always in their meager defenses, low physical strength and lack of weapon skills. Because of this, Mages were susceptible on the battlefield due to their lack of armor and weapon protection. Their magic could work well in close-range combat, but it was safer for the mage to be as far away from their opponent as their magic would allow and attack from a longer range.

Not to mention that controlling magic, a source of nature with a will of its own, meant that mages needed to have strict control over their attacks. Without this control, major damage and injuries could occur to the mage, their allies and their surroundings. Many young or late-blooming inexperienced mages died from such accidents, along with whoever was unlucky enough to happen to be nearby.

It was why the magic schools in Khadein were so important. Not only did they offer the education and training these inexperienced mages needed, but also protection. The more experienced and powerful mages could stop, or absorb, or counter, or even control over an out-of-control magic attack.

Iris wished her grandfather was here with her now.

With him, she would not have to worry about her barely controlled magic. If she lost control, her grandfather would gain control over her attack and redirected to where it was supposed to go. Or even stop the whole forest from catching on fire, if she happened to hit the right tree in the right place.

But her Grandpa Zini was not here.

It was just her, the prince, his two abductors and the mysterious third man, who seemed more intent on watching the fight, rather than joining in.

Iris twirled her rope-club faster to build up its strength, as she watched Joel grab a hold of his axe with the hand of the uninjured arm. She took noticed that he seemed to be holding it awkwardly, as if he was not used to holding it in his right hand. Marth took notice of it too.

"You take the injured one," he whispered, "I'll take the other."

"Agreed."

"The moment they charge at us: scramble."

"Right."

Although he felt a bit silly doing it with a dagger instead of a rapier, Marth fell into one of his fencing defensive parry positions, the fifth one, to protect his head and shoulders.

Fencing was one of the more stylistic and computational styles of sword fighting that had been drilled into him when he was old enough to pick up a sword. This sword style allowed him to use the more slender and sharply pointed straight blades, which were good for thrusting attacks.

Normally, Marth used to the traditional long-swords with its thicker and heavier blades that often required the use of both hands to hold. They were stronger, held more power and the blade was much sturdier, making it more resistant to heavy attacks that could break a slenderer blade in two.

But this situation called for the swiftness and precise striking accuracy that the fencing art was known for. Even if his current weapon's blade was no longer then his hand, it was still slender enough for the fencing moves to work, even if he had to get up close and personal with his opponent.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Iris slide one of her feet back, getting ready to dodge to the side at a moment's notice. The rope-club was still spinning rapidly, almost wildly, next to her. But it was expertly not showing any signs of slowing down or faltering. Her face was in a sort of expressionless calm he had seen other mages fall into when they were about to cast a spell back home at the castle training grounds. The only difference was that Iris was not getting ready to cast any spell.

They watched their opponents get into their own attacking positions. The Mercenary smiled uncharacteristically happy about sometime.

"So, you two little troublemakers want to fight huh?" Shane said, "Very well then. But you two should get ready to lose. Don't worry little prince, we're not going to kill you. However, your little girlfriend may not be so lucky."

Shane smirked confidently at the glare Marth sent him, "Really little prince, you should have stayed just stayed tied up."

The mercenary pointed his blade in Iris's direction. "And you, little missy, should have stayed home."

With twin yells of battle cries, both bounty hunters charged at their two smaller opponents. Almost at the same time, Shane's heavy blade and Joel's axe were raised up over their heads and swung down heavily upon them.

CLANG!


	15. Take Aim

A/N: I'm sorry if the fight seems too short or won too easily, but I find that I'm not very experienced in writing fight scenes. Most of what I've written was based off of memory of mock fights I've seen on YouTube.

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen: ...Take Aim...**

The ringing sound of the bounty hunter's weapons striking the hard ground filled both Marth and Iris's ears, making them realize just how close they could have been to being hit by those heavy weapons. They dodged by leaping in different directions; Marth jumping backwards and Iris leaping off to the side. As she flew through the air, Iris sent the heavy knot flying towards Joel. The knot bounced off Joel's armored gauntlet, causing a low clang-like sound to cut through the air. Though it did not cause any harm to the axe-wielder, it was enough to catch his attention and encourage him to come after her instead of Marth.

Joel pulled the blade of his axe off of the ground, and started running for Iris, who took off running as well, the rope-club once again spinning wildly next to her.

Once he felt his feet land back on the ground, Marth let his body move into a familiar guard position that his fencing instructor had practically engraved into his muscle memory. Though, it didn't do much, as Shane's longer sword easily went over his dagger's shorter blade. The prince had to twist his waist to allow his upper body to turn and lean back out of the way. The move sent a sharp pain down his spine as his back was still hurting from the strain it was put through when he was tied up. By the prince forced himself to forget his body's discomfort and concentrate on wearing Shane down, as well as avoid his blade at the same time.

Movement, Iris reminded herself, movement was the key. She had to keep her feet going. Not only to dodge the wild attacks almost raining down on her, but also to wear down her already injured opponent.

She was glad that Marth had allowed her to handle the "weaker" one of their opponents. Although Joel was probably, and technically, the physically stronger one of the two bounty hunters, his injury caused by Marth's surprise stabbing attack, had left him at a disadvantage. He was holding his axe in the "wrong" hand. Now that his dominate arm and hand were near useless by the pain flooding his shoulder and down his arm, he was forced to use his only working arm to wield his weapon. However, because he was not used to using his other hand, the grip was awkward and the attacks were off. For someone with no training in fights, having their opponent already at a disadvantage was a blessing.

It was probably a cliché move, but considering her lack of formal training in fights, Iris led Joel into a run around the royal carriage in a circle. Marth had been correct in the analyzation that the bounty hunter's armor would weigh the warrior down. More than once, Iris had to slow herself down to allow Joel to catch up just enough to stay just out of reach of his half-wildly swinging axe.

The running was causing Joel to become fatigued, but the weariness was also causing him to become angry. Iris had heard somewhere that anger in battle could be a very good thing for the opponent. Anger clouded judgment, and without judgment, the warrior could not think things clearly. But Iris was not so sure that her opponent becoming angry was a good thing in this situation. Joel just seemed to be pushing himself harder and he was gaining more ground on her.

Iris let out a small squeak of "Yike!" when she felt the axe's sharp blade just barely brush past her boot.

Yep, she decided, having her opponent angry was not good.

Not only that, she was going to waste all her energy if all she did was run like this. Living on a farm had made her physical fit in many ways most other girls did not have, mainly in the arm strength and the stamina. But at her young age, her developing body did not have the high energy reserves of that of an older person. She had to think of something else.

And fast, she added, when she felt another barely missed hit brush against her.

* * *

Marth spent most of his time backing away from Shane, then actually trying to land strike on him. It was mainly due to Shane's larger sword and life experience and training as a swordfighter for hire. Marth frequently had to dodge out of the way to avoid a well-timed and moved strike at his body. The tip of Shane's sword had already slashed his shirt in two places and once at his right pant leg, just above his knee. Luckily, the sword had not broken any skin, but Marth had felt the sharp tip of that blade brush across it threateningly.

The prince avoided locking blades with the mercenary, knowing that Shane had the upper hand in weight and strength. The dagger's thin blade would easily be snapped in half by both the weight of the iron sword, and the strength Shane could put on it. The last thing Marth wanted to lose the only weapon he had. Not to mention that it was Iris's. He'd never forgive himself for breaking something of hers, even if it was during when he had to defend himself.

The prince felt his socked foot slide over a tree's root. Marth risked a quick glance behind him with his eyes.

Shane was trying to back him against a large tree.

Being pressed back against a hard surface would really complicate his fighting ability if the prince allowed himself to be herded into it.

Marth decided it was best to do what he could see Iris was attempting to do with her opponent: dodge and run.

The prince turned his heel and spun around on it, effectively dodging around and behind the tree before he could be pushed back into it. Once completely behind the tree, he took off into a run. Shane let out a shout of surprised, and he was forced to run as well to keep up with the prince and not lose him. Marth was the bounty's hunters' target, and they could not afford to lose him anymore than their employer.

* * *

Although she knew it could take away more of energy that she would in the long run need, Iris forced her legs to give her a tiny bit of a speed boost. Effectively, her small increase had taken her out of the axe's range, but Iris knew that she could not keep it going for very long, especially not when she needed to keep herself from tiring.

She needed to attack now!

In a moment of what could only be called instinct, because she had done it without thought, Iris spun her rope as fast as she could while in a dead run. She allowed her heel to twist around in an arch, causing her body to twirl about-face, the momentum of her run causing her feet to push off the ground on an in-born impulse Iris had no idea she had.

As the young mage-in-training flew herself backwards and off the ground, everything seemed to slow down and go silent, although it was, in actuality, her mind.

She could see Joel barreling towards her, but she could also see his enraging face suddenly transform into a look of sure surprise. She saw his body falter as he tried to stop himself. But in his rage, he had been going too fast to just suddenly stop without any slowing down. Now, he was in a sort of comical, almost flapping, stumble that would have been funny to her had she been watching from a safer, less threatening, angle and distance.

Her arm spinning the rope needed little encouragement. She swung her arm, her hand let go, and the energy in that motion sent the knot on the end of her rope soaring, hard and fast, towards her opponent's head.

WHAMP!

"Oomph!"

BASH!

"Oooohhh…"

* * *

Marth used the surprise he caused for Shane by his unexpected run to his advantage.

He ran behind another tree. When Shane began to run around it, the prince quickly moved back around, giving him a clear shot of Shane's exposed and poorly protected backside.

Marth did not waste any time. This chance would only last less than five seconds. He thrust the dagger to an exposed point on the bounty hunter mercenary's lower back. The blade hit true and the tip sank in. Shane let out a sharp yell of surprise and pain, and twisted himself around, freeing himself from the blade. But Marth made a sort of hoping like shuffle to move himself sideways to keep behind the taller warrior. The prince knew that he needed to keep himself behind his opponent and continue to strike at the weak point.

Marth thrust again, Shane yelled out and twisted, Marth moved to stay behind him and repeated the action.

If he could keep this up, he may have a good chance of beating Shane. With him out of the way, the prince could focus on helping Iris take down her opponent, and then they could both concentrate on taking on the final opponent, the bounty hunters' employer, together.

* * *

How Iris ended up on her back, staring up at the gradually lightening up sky with its still visible stars through the forest tree branches, she did not know. The moment she saw the rope knot hit Joel's head, the world around her sped up into a blur. She felt the hard ground slam against her back and she felt Joel's heavy boot-clad foot trip over her.

He disappeared from her view, she found herself looking up towards the sky, and she heard a heavy bash-like thump against the side of the carriage, and Joel's moan of pain before hearing him fall down heavily onto the ground.

After a few moments of stillness and quietness, a wave a pain from her back caught her attention, causing her to clench her eyes shut as the healing wound on the side of her head throbbed again, almost in protest.

She kept her eyes closed and allowed herself to inhale and exhale through her mouth, trying to breathe the pain away. It seemed to work. The pain was fading rather quickly.

That was good.

In a few moments, maybe a minute, she would regain herself enough to get up and help Marth, now that her opponent was down and out. The loud sound of that collision he made with the carriage left her with little doubt that he had been successfully knocked out. She let the corners of her mouth tip upward in a smile…

…which quickly faded away when she felt something pointedly sharp and freezing cold press hard against the jugular vein of her throat.

"Get up slowly," a voice, low and dangerous, ordered her

Iris barely held back the urge to growl at herself. How in the world had she forgotten the third guy?

* * *

"Altea!"

Marth stopped himself just as he was about to stab Shane's back for the sixth time. Shane stopped moving too. That voice they both heard did not sound too friendly to the prince's ears, especially not in the way it commanded the absolute authority.

"Altea Prince Marth!"

Staying in the exact same position he was, ready to stab the bounty hunter's back, Marth slowly turned his head towards the direction he heard the voice come from.

Marth's noble blue eyes widen in fear and concern at what he saw.

Iris was being held at sword point by the third man, who Marth realized, was dressed much like the prince had often seen Jagen in.

This man was a Paladin.

"I order you to drop that knife and surrender yourself or I will kill your friend!" the paladin, Dejanira threatened.

* * *

A/N: Did I say won?


	16. Fire! Your Burning Will

A/N: I'm raising the rated for this chapter to **Rated T**, mainly due to the abusing content in here.

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen: Fire! Your Burning Will **

Joel was dead.

His collusion with the carriage had done a lot worse damage than Iris could have imagined or thought possible.

He did not appear to have any substantial injuries, expect for an egg shaped bump on his head. But for whatever the reason, the axe-wielding fighter was dead.

Joel's partner only found out after he had secured the mage-in-training and re-secured the prince, this time merely twisting his arms painfully behind his back and binding both arms together with last bit of rope they had. To secure Iris, their new prisoner, Shane used the rope Iris used to make her rope-club to bind her wrists together. Once they were as secured as Shane could manage, he went to check on Joel.

He was in the process of rolling him over, but when the tips of Shane's fingers accidently brushed Joel's skin, the mercenary found himself stopping cold, his chest wrenching.

Joel was beginning to feel like ice.

In horror, Shane rolled him over fully and pressed his ear against Joel's mouth.

No breath.

"He's dead…" Shane whispered, unheard by the other three.

Dejinira quickly grew impatient when he saw Shane doing nothing to wake up his partner. "Well? What are you waiting for? Awaken him!"

"I can't…" Shane said, his voice shaking with his shock

"Why not?" Dejinira demanded an answer

"He's dead!"

Shane could not stop himself from letting out a cry of agony at the loss of his friend and curled up into a ball, ignoring the sharp pains in his back from the shallow stab wounds Marth managed to inflict.

Iris and Marth looked at each other in surprise. When they had begun to fight back, they had not expected this outcome. They had expected to at least injure the bounty hunters enough to disable them, and keep them from interfering with their attempt to escape after they dealt with the Paladin. They didn't conceive the possibility that one of their opponents would accidently meet his end.

* * *

The signs of the twilight dawn were showing in the east. The time for the sun to rise was nearing. The orange light of the coming sun illuminated some far distant objects, such as trees and hills, finally allowing them to become more visible to the quick-paced riders.

Jagen was fighting to keep his growing restlessness from overwhelming him as he tried to concentrate on following the road where the carriage tracks were leading them.

The prince and Zini's youngest granddaughter have been missing for who knows how long; quite possibly hours. All everyone knew was that very much time had passed since the prince had been kidnapped from his room and Iris had gone after him in the hopes of saving him.

In his heart, Jagen knew that if the two of the two young ones were forced to fight the kidnappers, they would more than likely be overwhelmed. But he had high confidence in his young sire.

Despite his young age and the self-doubts Jagen knew his young sire had within him, the young prince had his father's stubborn determination and strength within him. The old Paladin had seen it for himself during the prince's vast and harsh solider training.

Solider training was tough, even for the full-grown adults, but it was especially hard for one as young as the prince. But it was in that struggle that the prince's hidden strength of will had shown through. Even when it felt like he was going to just lie down and give up, the prince somehow found the strength to get up and continue. It gave Jagen a great comfort to know that Cornelius's son had a valuable asset of willpower within him. For in that strength, burning of his willpower would allow him to endure whatever challenges that life had planned for him, as well as inspire that same valor within those of his allies.

It was the only comfort the old Paladin Knight had.

Sitting every-silently behind him, Zini had to find his own source of comfort. His heart praying to the souls of his departed loved ones; his parents, his wife, his son, his daughter-in-law to watch over Iris during whatever trouble she was facing at this very moment, with help still so far behind.

The old mage allowed his mind to drift into other thoughts.

His youngest grandchild was so much like him when he was in the wellspring of his youth. He had faced the same challenges all young mages had to go through, no matter how well taught and trained they were to becoming.

Anima control was always the first challenge anyone with the gift of magic had to face. Without good solid control, a mage was either a great danger to himself or those around them, or completely useless. One could not help their friends and allies if they could not properly heal a very bad injury the right way, or end up attacking a friendly target instead of an enemy. Control was essential and it often took years for young mages, clerics and bishops to gain full control.

Zini, like Iris, had been a rare case where learning control had taken a lot longer than the standard average. Usually, it only took three years for even the youngest of magic pupils to regulate their anima control. But sometimes it took an additional year or two for those having trouble to gain the full skillfulness.

In Zini and Iris's case it took them nearly seven years; a very rare but not unheard of case.

As such, during those first seven years since Zini had arrived at the magic school in Khadein's capital, he was dubbed the school's worst student at magic control. Zini could not count how many times he set nearly the whole school on fire during his attempts to try and gain his control ability, but always met failure.

However, despite the frustration of his lack of solid control over his anima, Zini had never stopped trying. He had done and tried every little thing he could do to try and find the secret in perfectly controlling the magic in his veins. Just like he had seen Iris tried to do yesterday morning in their soybean field. It had taken him a great amount of agony to find the answer to it. He knew that Iris was going through that same struggle, even now in the face of the danger she had placed herself in willingly.

But her resolve would see her through.

She just had to feel the burning of her own will.

The forest was just over the next few hills. They were almost there.

* * *

It hurt so bad.

The coopery taste and thick liquid texture of blood was filling in her mouth. She could feel it run down into the back of her throat, brushing roughly against her windpipe causing the urge to gag. It was running out of her nose, staining her lips, her cheeks and some of it oozing down and onto her throat and just missing her ears.

She could not wipe it off. She could not spit it out. She could not even attempt to stop or slow the following down. Her arms were trapped over her head. Her dagger was wedge deeply into the knot, effectively nailing the rope to the forest floor.

The lone bounty hunter, Shane, was sitting on her chest, his heavier body weight and armor nearly crushing her ribs. He was staring down at her, a wild look of rage on his face, his eyes glowering with anger and sick pleasure. He raised his fist; bloody with her blood oozing between his fingers, and rammed it down, once again, rock-solid hard on her nose.

The horrible pain was back with a vengeance.

She couldn't describe what her nose felt like with those repeated blows raining down upon her face, but her mind did conjured up the image of fire under the skin of her bruised face. Tears gathered and fell at the corner of her scrunched closed eyes, falling down like little streams. But her attacker was obvious to her tears, too lost within himself as he took his anger out on her.

"You killed him! You killed him!" he had loudly accused earlier just before he started the beating.

Even though he was once again tied up, Marth tried to push her protectively behind him. He stood up on his knees and used his shoulder to herd her behind him. But Dejinira thrust the tip of his sword under the prince's chin threateningly.

"Your majesty," the dark paladin said mockingly and sinisterly, "Sit back down. Your spirit, while admirable, will not help here. Sit! Down!"

Marth sat heavily down upon his hunches, but he stared up with a glare that was trying to appear threatening at the paladin. But unfortunately it was not enough to cause the object of his glare any sort of negative. The prince was not going to go back into being afraid. He would not allow himself to become afraid before like he had back at the village. Now that both he and Iris were in the enemy's hands, fear was something that would give the enemy the control they needed over them.

Dejinira sent the prince a dark smile. "I see you are not so easily dominated by fear."

"No…" Marth answered, "I'm not."

Dejinira let out a chuckle that sent an icy feeling down Iris's spine. "You have a lot of daring for one so young. But then again, I should expect such things from one of Cornelius's brats and a student of Sir Jagen."

The dark paladin looked over at Iris. "But I wonder about you. I know you not, yet I see you too have spark of daring. But is it as great as the prince's?"

Iris blinked. "What?"

And, not long after, the beating began.

It took all the strength she had not to make one sound.

The prince had struggled and yelled angrily, demanding that they leave her alone. They ignored him, pinned her down, and the punches and slaps rained down.

"This is your punishment!" Shane yelled, "This is payback for my partner!"

Dejinira ordered him not to end up killing her, because they needed her to "keep the prince company." Even with the sound of hits and slaps filling her ears, the pain nearly stealing away all her attention, she could hear Dejinira warning Marth that any attempted to escape or further resistance would result in more beatings like this upon her.

The blows were relentless.

He would not stop hitting and slapping her.

The pain was almost overwhelming.

And he was enjoying it.

This sick man was enjoying seeing her in pain…wanting to see her in pain, just to mask the pain he was feeling within himself.

It was sick…

No, it was disgusting and inhuman!

And it was making her angry.

The blows paused. Shane was catching his breath, re-gathering his strength until he had enough energy to continue the merciless beating. Her head had lolled to the side, her face facing the direction where she had last seen Marth.

Iris risked opening her eyes a fraction.

Marth was looking up at Dejinira with a fierce defiant look on his not-too-much-older face. There was a fire in his eyes Iris had never seen before. Something about it seemed to reach out towards her, giving her a strength she thought she had lost when this beating started.

Marth was going to fight, even if he had to do it with his arms bound behind his back. He was going fight to stop Shane from continuing to hurt her. He was going to fight Dejinira in order for him to get her to safety. He did not care how bad the odds were against him, he was going to do it.

If the prince of Altea wasn't going to give up, neither was she!

Heat…

She was feeling heat around her body. But this heat was not like anything she had ever felt before. It was burning, but it did not hurt her. If anything it was reenergizing her, giving her its strength to continue on fighting. She did not know it at the time, but she was feeling for the first time the anima activating in her blood.

A power filled by the burnings of her willpower.

"Stop it…" she growled past her hurt and bruised lips.

Much to her surprise, Shane did. It was something about her voice, she realized. It seemed different.

Stronger somehow?

But the moment did not last long. Shane's fury resurfaced

"I SAID—" Large intense flames of magic appeared in a burst in her hands, getting the rope around her wrists on fire. Her eyes snapped open, revealing the fire sparking and shining in her eyes, "STOP HITTING ME!"

And her will burned.

* * *

A/N: Not as good as I had wanted it, but I think it's because how uneasy I get writing down beating scenes, I just want to get it done with. Maybe I'll come back and re-do later.


End file.
